tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14133495177006676672017-10-17T04:16:44.005-07:00Just Being A Happy BeingJustBeing AHappyBeinghttps://plus.google.com/110216159034183415738noreply@blogger.comBlogger60125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1413349517700667667.post-84459186576091226212015-12-06T15:20:00.000-08:002015-12-06T15:20:53.387-08:00IMPROV FOR ASPIES!The key to every social lesson I've taught my son, is to make it fun and appeal to his sense of humor. <br /><br />When my son was younger and I had to prepare him for an upcoming social event, we would role play. I would pretend to be a person who had to introduce themselves to a group of peers. I'd&nbsp;enter and re-enter his room introducing myself in different, exaggerated ways. Shoulders hunched and eyes on the ground, mumbling my name and offering a really limp handshake or dragging my feet into the room, smacking my gum, eyes fixed on my phone, then keeping my arms crossed and not introducing myself at all. Then I would have him tell me what his first impressions of me were when I behaved that way. <br /><br />Once the point was made, we'd practice the proper way to introduce ourselves&nbsp;(eye contact, firm handshake,&nbsp;shoulders back, chin up)&nbsp;and work on 'getting to know you' questions and answers. Once the lesson was done, we would take the game in a really exaggerated direction and take turns acting out&nbsp;really outrageous introductions and laughing at the impression those characters would make on a new group of people. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IZJ-UrX8jEA/VmS2Zf9KrbI/AAAAAAAABis/8KDAQ7rYigc/s1600/untitled.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IZJ-UrX8jEA/VmS2Zf9KrbI/AAAAAAAABis/8KDAQ7rYigc/s1600/untitled.png" /></a></div><br />I had the bright idea, after showing him the best of Adam Sandler skits from SNL, to sign him up for a local improve class. Luckily, the first place we signed up with was a perfect fit. It was owned and run by some young adults (former Disney TV celebs) and was close to home. It took just one test class for him to agree to join up for weekly improv lessons. The energy was high, the classes were small,&nbsp;and the rules were loose -&nbsp;it was a&nbsp;perfect place for my boy to learn about himself. <br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-62ocQ5Bf2gY/VmS2Y7F7NrI/AAAAAAAABiw/5JtYe9d_fB0/s1600/imagesS72KLD6B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-62ocQ5Bf2gY/VmS2Y7F7NrI/AAAAAAAABiw/5JtYe9d_fB0/s200/imagesS72KLD6B.jpg" width="200" /></a>The zanier the exercise, the more involved he would become, completely forgetting to be self-conscious or uncomfortable -&nbsp;because he and all the kids there with him&nbsp;were just&nbsp;'acting' and it wasn't 'real life'.&nbsp;It&nbsp;wasn't long before I could&nbsp;see self-confidence begin to grow. Sadly, the classes weren't getting enough participants and they didn't run as often as I would have liked. We tried an improv class that was being offered at the community center, but the vibe just wasn't the same, it was too focused on the 'art of improv' and not enough on the 'just go for it' improv he had previously experienced. He tried out one class and didn't want to go back. At the end of the day, I think taking improv changed his life. He has been, increasingly, the class clown over the years since always searching for that great feeling that making people laugh gives a person. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N2jXiX2MzZk/VmS2ZMHewjI/AAAAAAAABi0/qAS8VTMAHd0/s1600/images9MNS3R88.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N2jXiX2MzZk/VmS2ZMHewjI/AAAAAAAABi0/qAS8VTMAHd0/s200/images9MNS3R88.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />I made is sound kind of easy, but he started out as a very frustrated boy. He couldn't articulate his feelings and would often go into 'rage mode' because of it. After doing improv on and off for a few years, he was better able to control his body and articulate his feelings. I believe that learning to manipulate and express himself in a safe and accepting environment like improv class, helped him to get in touch with his own voice and sense of self. <br /><br />I also believe, that Aspies should, where possible, go into groups like this with 'typicals' to offer them the opportunity to learn from them via proximity by witnessing how they react and&nbsp;behave in different situations.<br /><br />Do you have any similar stories or suggestions to help our Aspie kids? Leave a comment! <br /><br />Good luck our there, <br />JB<br /><br />JustBeing AHappyBeinghttps://plus.google.com/110216159034183415738noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1413349517700667667.post-72234906312739005022015-07-24T21:52:00.000-07:002015-12-09T07:46:39.364-08:00Our Best Bitches Annual Surprise Birthday Day <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My best friend and I plan a surprise day for each other every year on their birthday. Pretty freaking awesome right?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">&nbsp;</div>It began around ten years ago when my best friend and I had an epiphany. We had met only a few years before that through work, discovered we both had kids still in diapers and began meeting on the weekends to drink tea while said kids ran amuck at the local indoor playground called The Monkey's Jungle.<br /><br />Over the years, in&nbsp;discussing our significant others' downfalls, as girls are want to do, we agreed they weren't really in tune with our unique and often odd personalities, which made us so&nbsp;hilarious to each other,&nbsp;or our sense of adventure.&nbsp;They were continually giving us things like&nbsp;emergency car kits or boring old flowers&nbsp;for our birthdays - and&nbsp;with no sense of ceremony at all! We both felt we were pretty fabulous gals and deserved to have our birthdays, not just noted, but celebrated! If we were forced to get older we might as well enjoy the ride. <br /><br />The realization was that we set our hopes too high every year just to be let down. We couldn't fault our mates for not performing to a standard that they didn't even know existed, could we? And so we took our happiness into our own hands and decided not just to celebrate our birthdays together every year for the rest of our lives, but to plan each other's birthdays as a surprise in advance every year as well. And thus was the beginning of our <span style="color: magenta;">Annual Surprise Birthday Day</span>. My&nbsp;birthday is in April and RBs in July,&nbsp;so the weather was usually good enough&nbsp;for&nbsp;whatever we conjured up to do.<br /><br />Who knows you better than your bestie? Probably nobody. It's a relationship with no holds barred. You intimately know the best and worst of each other as well as the best and worst of everyone in each others life through proximity. You love who they love and hate who they hate. You've got their back and they've got yours. If you are one of the lucky ones, this also describes your relationship with your spouse. The significant difference here is that women get women. <br /><br />Your spouse may also be your best friend, but he'll never really get your the way your bestie does. We figure we are saving them the inevitable grief of cocking up our birthdays and taking the pressure off them, leaving us looking forward to our Birthday with giddy anticipation every year instead of the dread of another hum-drum birthday.&nbsp;Besides, everybody knows it's important to maintain your friendships even though you are in a relationship:&nbsp;<a href="http://advicefromatwentysomething.com/relationship-advice-make-time-for-friends/" target="_blank">Read This!</a>&nbsp;So every year our spouse is off the hook and we get to go out into the world and act like a couple of idiots all day long, refusing to actually grow up just because we happen to be getting older. <br /><br />So are you in? Do you have a friend you can make the Birthday Day Pact with? It will change your life. Even if you don't have a significant&nbsp;other, it's important to your overall wellbeing to make time to spend with your friends. I promise you will cherish these two days per year that are dedicated to the people who will always be there for you. And you will&nbsp;make SO MANY HAPPY MEMORIES.<br /><br /><strong><u>OUR BIRTHDAY DAYS</u></strong><br /><br /><span style="color: magenta;">There are no rules.</span> It is totally up to the other person and their budget at the time to schedule the entire day in advance. It really matters not what we do or where we go in the end, only that we spend a day together. We leave the stress of every day life behind twice a year and run&nbsp;away for a day. It really is freeing. <br /><br />We always start our days off early to make the most of it. We have breakfast together, sometimes in the car on our way to our destination while also enjoying our steeped tea from Tim Hortons.<br /><br />In the beginning we started out almost every birthday with a trip to a spa where we would get our <strong>nails done and sometimes get massages</strong>. It got expensive and made it harder to plan for the others things in the day so we don't do it as much anymore. <br /><br /><strong><u>DAY TRIP!</u></strong><br /><span style="color: black;">Here are some of the things we've done on our Birthday Days:</span><br /><ul><li><span style="color: black;">Window shopping in some cute little tourist town a few hours away</span></li><li><span style="color: black;">A Helicopter ride over </span><span style="color: black;">Niagara Falls</span></li><li><span style="color: black;">Watching a play in the theatre district of Toronto</span></li><li><span style="color: black;">Taking a Pole Dancing Class</span></li><li><span style="color: black;">Having high tea a the Royal York</span></li><li>Zip lining</li><li>Going to a museum</li><li>Taking a tour - any tour!</li></ul><br />This year, on my birthday, we did a tour of the ROM (Royal Ontario Museum) and then kicked around in the city in the afternoon, window shopping and dining and 'documenting' everything with our phones. After taking a photo, we decided to started saying <strong>"documented!"</strong> We are silly and it made us giggle. The point it that as long as we're together, it's going to be&nbsp;fun day. <br /><br />For my beastie's birthday, I took her to cottage country where we took a boat tour that turned out to be a bit on the long, get me off this damn boat and get some food into my body, kind of tour. Afterwards we window shopped in the harbor town and then headed to my modest cottage an hour away for the night, concluding the evening with a fire and marshmallows. <br /><br /><strong><u>GIFTS</u></strong><br /><strong><u></u></strong><br />We started filling a treasure chest for each other as a new tradition. Again, nothing fancy or expensive, just things you know the other person would appreciate. My bestie, who is truly the best, actually makes me chocolate covered Swedish berries every year - I suck as a friend in comparison - they are my absolute favorite thing in the world, next to my own child. I put google eyes in the box for her this year, and she had some fun vandalizing property with them as you'll see "documented!" below.<br /><br /><strong><u>DOCUMENTED</u></strong>!<br />﻿<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sqzjYLo0Nks/VbMPOuhwc1I/AAAAAAAABf0/DtnB5a1XZvo/s1600/11053315_10155756485310322_8585730666003114245_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sqzjYLo0Nks/VbMPOuhwc1I/AAAAAAAABf0/DtnB5a1XZvo/s320/11053315_10155756485310322_8585730666003114245_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BEST BITCHES 4 LIFE!</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />﻿<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jO-WVcSlC90/VbMPOfzUo9I/AAAAAAAABfs/er9CgmnUvTw/s1600/10409180_10155756441820322_1130012267611264567_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jO-WVcSlC90/VbMPOfzUo9I/AAAAAAAABfs/er9CgmnUvTw/s400/10409180_10155756441820322_1130012267611264567_n.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">GOOGLE EYES!</td></tr></tbody></table><br />﻿﻿﻿﻿<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jeCOglVVqVs/VbMPNsCbIfI/AAAAAAAABfk/UqSKSzGMTak/s1600/10257662_10155422555630322_5671405951182989567_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jeCOglVVqVs/VbMPNsCbIfI/AAAAAAAABfk/UqSKSzGMTak/s320/10257662_10155422555630322_5671405951182989567_o.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">THE ROM</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iJAdlz3wJ08/VbMRDa0RzhI/AAAAAAAABhI/HnEF_lr5CPQ/s1600/553090_10151921336155322_858094369_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iJAdlz3wJ08/VbMRDa0RzhI/AAAAAAAABhI/HnEF_lr5CPQ/s320/553090_10151921336155322_858094369_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ZIP LINING (RB was sick for the rest of the day)</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8z024VKWveY/VbMPNmmGnvI/AAAAAAAABfg/j1bSNCU3zg8/s1600/10353704_10154502134875314_7320781358062305213_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8z024VKWveY/VbMPNmmGnvI/AAAAAAAABfg/j1bSNCU3zg8/s320/10353704_10154502134875314_7320781358062305213_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'WINDOW SHOPPING'</td></tr></tbody></table><br />﻿﻿<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6MLhgZHyoZM/VbMPOr6Wu-I/AAAAAAAABfw/D8gBtdKoG34/s1600/10509579_10154502159175314_4465863608084614803_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6MLhgZHyoZM/VbMPOr6Wu-I/AAAAAAAABfw/D8gBtdKoG34/s320/10509579_10154502159175314_4465863608084614803_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'WINDOW SHOPPING'</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DfBVGERKrBo/VbMPPUxMyqI/AAAAAAAABgE/CBd6KRMFPKI/s1600/11700836_10155756450375322_7782402326612497429_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DfBVGERKrBo/VbMPPUxMyqI/AAAAAAAABgE/CBd6KRMFPKI/s320/11700836_10155756450375322_7782402326612497429_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SCARY ASS DOLLS WE FOUND WINDOW SHOPPING</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>JustBeing AHappyBeinghttps://plus.google.com/110216159034183415738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1413349517700667667.post-62055402683452375962015-05-04T14:48:00.005-07:002015-06-15T10:38:19.201-07:00Sh*t My Mom Says<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z1THaicF6fs/VX8NJd6UfDI/AAAAAAAABe8/oqqBn3U2SEA/s1600/imagesJV1ZNKPH.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z1THaicF6fs/VX8NJd6UfDI/AAAAAAAABe8/oqqBn3U2SEA/s200/imagesJV1ZNKPH.jpg" width="133" /></a>Some&nbsp;mothers, like myself, come up with sweet little sayings that are sort of like inside jokes for mom and child. For instance, I was tired of telling my son that "practice makes perfect!" so I started saying "practice makes popcorn!" which made us giggle and still got my point across to my ever reluctant son. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>As for my mother's many, many sayings and expressions, I though I'd make a list of&nbsp;some of her gems.&nbsp;Keep in mind she is of a different generation and was raised in the forest by wolves (actually in the woods and my grandfather was a fur trapper). In her defense, my mother is actually the sweetest person I know. She had 5 kids to raise and she welcomed all of our friends and neighborhood kids&nbsp;into our home. She would pack a lunch for all of us plus my best friend who would&nbsp;show up at our door every morning to take the bus with us. I could write a book on just how amazing my mother truly is. But today, I'm&nbsp;going to write&nbsp;about&nbsp;all the sayings that kept me guessing over the years. My mother&nbsp;is a respected member of her community....somehow. Anyway, here we go!<br /><br /><u>Sh*t My Mom Says:</u><br /><br /><strong>Let's get warmed up with some of the PG ones:</strong><br /><br /><strong>"Some people's children."</strong> She would say this when we were being weird or misbehaving as though she was judging another person's kids.&nbsp;I like this one and use it on my son now.<br /><br /><strong>"Rise and Shine! Daylight in the Swamp!"</strong> This is how she would wake us up for school when we were teens. I kind of loved it.<br /><br />My mother would sing this to me sometimes: <strong>"You may think it's goofy, but my daughter is a Newfie!"</strong> I also kind of loved this because my father is from The Rock.<br /><br /><strong>"That's the pot calling the kettle black."</strong> It's a classic, but now we have stainless steel kettles and our pots can come in a variety of colors. This expression came about when people used cast iron in the kitchen - and it's not a racist expression at all. It's a way of calling somebody a hypocrite. <br /><br /><strong>"Like it or lump it"</strong> I actually found this one on the internet: Meaning: "Said of an unpleasant outcome that one has no choice but to accept - one can either endure it willingly or endure it with suffering. - Lump - To look sulky or disagreeable (16th century) <a href="http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/like-it-or-lump-it.html">http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/like-it-or-lump-it.html</a><br /><br /><strong>Are you warmed up? Because here come the doozies:</strong><br /><br /><strong>"I'm broke flatter than piss on a plate."</strong> I think this one is self explanatory.<br /><br /><strong>"That thing (jar, door, whatever) is closed up tighter than a Nun's c*nt."</strong> (yup, she really says it - without a care in the world - kind of like Betty White) Both insulting to women and religion in one blow. I'd give this one a 9 on the offensive scale.<br /><br />If I am bent over to pick something up, she will say this before smacking very hard on the bottom: <strong>"Never pass a tight ass..."</strong> What does that even mean? Without smacking it I guess.<br /><br />She would also call me a <strong>"Wandering Jew"</strong> when I walked around the house in boredom as a child. I did not know how to feel about this one. I found out recently that there is actually a biblical character that this reference pertains to, whether my mother knows this or not, I will have to ask her. "The original legend concerns a <a class="mw-redirect" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jew" title="Jew">Jew</a>, who taunted <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jesus_in_Christianity" title="Jesus in Christianity">Jesus</a> on the way to the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crucifixion" title="Crucifixion">Crucifixion</a> and was then cursed to walk the earth until the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Second_Coming" title="Second Coming">Second Coming</a>." <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wandering_Jew">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wandering_Jew</a><br /><br />And the ultimate pot calling the kettle black is when she would tell us kids, <strong>"If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all."</strong> Really Mom? Really?<br /><br />My parents together have a ton of inside jokes as well. They often quote television commercials that made them laugh or just a part of a joke that they both thought was hilarious. They have a great relationship and still flirt with each other after forty years of marriage. So I think the secret to&nbsp;a good marriage must be that you both have to have a sense of humor be a little bit crazy.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cfEUoKh2uPM/VX8NLlHNWMI/AAAAAAAABfA/8mWxTWubl5E/s1600/imagesTPY870GY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cfEUoKh2uPM/VX8NLlHNWMI/AAAAAAAABfA/8mWxTWubl5E/s1600/imagesTPY870GY.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />JustBeing AHappyBeinghttps://plus.google.com/110216159034183415738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1413349517700667667.post-87287402816242342212014-08-12T05:04:00.001-07:002015-12-09T07:45:51.702-08:0025 Things I Know Are True at age 37<ul><li>Bagels are just as bad as donuts.</li><li>"Choose your battles" is really good advice. &nbsp;</li><li>If you choose forgive somebody then you should actually do it.&nbsp;</li><li>Croissants are as bad as muffins.&nbsp;</li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-6qxbF4ICUVg/U-oExV7ku5I/AAAAAAAABb4/fjoKnTGoI54/s640/blogger-image--1024454128.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-6qxbF4ICUVg/U-oExV7ku5I/AAAAAAAABb4/fjoKnTGoI54/s400/blogger-image--1024454128.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><ul><li>Eating nuts is a good idea. Nobody remembers to eat nuts.&nbsp;</li><li>Meat is as bad as meat.&nbsp;</li><li>If we never cried, laughing wouldn't feel so good.&nbsp;</li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-ErU6Sj4I89Y/U-oEv7UeskI/AAAAAAAABbw/msoTWKYt47c/s640/blogger-image--1615059299.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-ErU6Sj4I89Y/U-oEv7UeskI/AAAAAAAABbw/msoTWKYt47c/s400/blogger-image--1615059299.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><ul><li>Being "broke flatter than piss on a plate" means you are having financial troubles.&nbsp;</li><li>Global warming is real, dummy.&nbsp;</li><li>Women are genetically disposed to being attracted to assholes.&nbsp;</li><li>Depression is real, dummy.&nbsp;</li><li>Owning a pet will mprove every aspect of your life.&nbsp;</li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-2FJwXP8VtVw/U-oEtUE6A5I/AAAAAAAABbg/EAZ2DZEKghc/s640/blogger-image--984378470.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-2FJwXP8VtVw/U-oEtUE6A5I/AAAAAAAABbg/EAZ2DZEKghc/s400/blogger-image--984378470.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><ul><li>Having children is supposed to change your life, dummy.&nbsp;</li><li>Small houses make loving families.&nbsp;</li><li>Bananas will bung you up if you eat them too often.&nbsp;</li><li>Friends are not important, they are vital.&nbsp;</li><li>Meditating improves every aspect of your life.&nbsp;</li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-PHywFj_7DGI/U-oEsIu_lDI/AAAAAAAABbY/fAXfQJXnZo8/s640/blogger-image--102887062.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-PHywFj_7DGI/U-oEsIu_lDI/AAAAAAAABbY/fAXfQJXnZo8/s400/blogger-image--102887062.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><ul><li>Some People will let you down and some will surprise you.&nbsp;</li><li>PMS is real, dummy.&nbsp;</li><li>Migraines suck.&nbsp;</li><li>Chocolate is as a gift from God to women, literally.&nbsp;</li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-X01_TretzNM/U-oEuplomKI/AAAAAAAABbo/Xa3M8YjWvW4/s640/blogger-image-274773977.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="377" src="http://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-X01_TretzNM/U-oEuplomKI/AAAAAAAABbo/Xa3M8YjWvW4/s400/blogger-image-274773977.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><ul><li>Sugar can make a headache worse.&nbsp;</li><li>Drinking more water will improve ever my aspect of your life.&nbsp;</li><li>Love is every emotion, good and bad, and sticking it out through them all is what counts.</li><li>Too much of anything isn't good for you.</li></ul>JustBeing AHappyBeinghttps://plus.google.com/110216159034183415738noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1413349517700667667.post-33775780034771884612014-08-10T15:21:00.001-07:002015-05-05T17:42:56.330-07:00My Jane Austen Summer<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px;">My bestie gave me a book containing all of Jane Austen's novels for my birthday a few years ago and this summer I plan to read them all.&nbsp;</div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px;"><br /></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px;">It is now early August and so far this summer I have read Persuasion, Lady Susan, and Mansfield Park. I fairly recently read Northanger Abbey so I feel like I can skip that one.&nbsp;</div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px;"><br /></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px;">My big ass Jane Austen book has been at arms reach all summer. It has been to the cottage, in my hammock in the back yard and as far as east as Newfoundland. I've even left it out in the rain of course.&nbsp;</div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-MbTy8TCWZQg/U-fwUmTCOiI/AAAAAAAABbA/TYDgsdgkijM/s640/blogger-image-1305531075.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-MbTy8TCWZQg/U-fwUmTCOiI/AAAAAAAABbA/TYDgsdgkijM/s320/blogger-image-1305531075.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px;"><br /></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px;">Right now I'm going to watch the movie Austenland (Adapted from the adorable book written by Shannon Hale&nbsp;<a href="http://books.google.ca/books/about/Austenland.html?id=fTXOJ3BClGwC&amp;redir_esc=y" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px;">http://books.google.ca/books/about/Austenland.html?id=fTXOJ3BClGwC&amp;redir_esc=y</a>) on Netflix to continue my Jane Austen summer.&nbsp;</div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px;"><br /></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-7MLYHkomaJg/U-fwWH6mmCI/AAAAAAAABbI/2nvSGY36EgY/s640/blogger-image-1702394308.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-7MLYHkomaJg/U-fwWH6mmCI/AAAAAAAABbI/2nvSGY36EgY/s320/blogger-image-1702394308.jpg" width="216" /></a></div><br /><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px;">Up next is Emma.&nbsp;</div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px;"><br /></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px;">I plan to end this summer rereading my absolute favourite book since age 14, Pride and Prejudice. And if I can spare sixteen hours I'll pull out my BBC DVD set too.</div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px;"><br /></div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-iV_nd7ibGaA/U-fwTGRC4oI/AAAAAAAABa4/ETkJ_3bcg6I/s640/blogger-image-1274656361.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-iV_nd7ibGaA/U-fwTGRC4oI/AAAAAAAABa4/ETkJ_3bcg6I/s320/blogger-image-1274656361.jpg" width="216" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div>JustBeing AHappyBeinghttps://plus.google.com/110216159034183415738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1413349517700667667.post-2481219882173923632014-05-27T19:44:00.002-07:002014-06-25T07:03:21.195-07:00Let's Talk About Death<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jZeDMy3iuxI/U4VLCC4vOdI/AAAAAAAABaI/IwDNcoOdVQw/s1600/untitled+(8).png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jZeDMy3iuxI/U4VLCC4vOdI/AAAAAAAABaI/IwDNcoOdVQw/s1600/untitled+(8).png" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>My father-in-law passed away recently. His wife, while he was on his deathbed, removed his wedding ring. We asked her, what she was doing. And she replied that she didn't want anybody to steal it when he is buried. I had to chuckle and say that there aren't grave robbers anymore, nor do we live in Ancient Egypt.&nbsp;She said she was just going to put it in her drawer - forever with some of her other jewelry. Feeling compelled, I asked would your husband not want to be buried with his wedding ring as it was such a part of his life, being married to&nbsp;her for the last 50 years. In the end she kept the ring off of his hand, after going back and forth a few times on the subject. <br /><br />What this made me&nbsp;realize is that we do not talk about death as much as we should before actually dying. I think it is easier on your loved ones if you to let them know your wishes. When I was speaking with my own father and telling him the story I just shared, he said very frankly that he wouldn't want to be buried with his wedding ring on. I was shocked. I would have very much assumed that he would want to be buried with his wedding ring on given that he loves my mother so much.&nbsp;This only strengthens&nbsp;my point is that we should have these conversations. <br /><br />My ex-mother-in-law did something that I thought was creepy when I first met her, but now I understand and actually admire her for it. She went around her home, at around the&nbsp;age of 70, putting little nametags on all of her belongings.&nbsp;When&nbsp;I asked her what the heck she was&nbsp;doing&nbsp;she told me she was putting her children's names on her belongings so they didn't fight over anything when she was gone. Is this extreme? I'm not sure anymore. <br /><br />To me when somebody passes away, respecting their wishes is your final act of&nbsp;honoring them. For instance some people may insist that they have a closed casket while others may insist they be buried in their favorite golf outfit. I think that there should be a list, not like&nbsp;a Will per se, but a list of things that you would like to see happen after you pass. <br /><br />I'm not a photogenic person. I will have pictures picked out for my funeral before I go, to save from anybody posting a bunch of awful pictures of me in memory on some board or slide show.<br />.<br />Life doesn't go on forever and that we have to prepare ourselves for the end eventually. Thinking about these things isn't easy, that's for sure. Mortality is a slap in the face&nbsp;at best. Especially when we've seen so many die young, and die very ill. But lets be brave and by being brave and having these conversations, we are being kind to&nbsp;those we leave&nbsp;behind.<br /><br /><div>A few things about my funeral:</div><ul><li>I want only the best photographs of me to be displayed</li><li>I want to closed casket</li><li>&nbsp;my closest family can view my body but that is all, as I believe it is a very important part of the grieving process and for closure.</li><li>I want very specific songs played at my funeral such as amazing Grace and On the Wings of a Snow White Dove. Maybe a little White Stripes?</li><li>&nbsp;I want my grandmother's engagement ring to go to my son and to&nbsp;be passed along to his children but I want to keep my engagement and&nbsp;wedding ring from Victor on my finger for eternity.&nbsp;</li><li>Only orange flowers at my funeral. No boring flowers allowed.</li><li>I also want twinkle lights, I'm not kidding.</li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tswG2dD7Wyc/U4VLENk4uCI/AAAAAAAABaU/CJgK6XcUS2U/s1600/imagesCAKY9OZN.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tswG2dD7Wyc/U4VLENk4uCI/AAAAAAAABaU/CJgK6XcUS2U/s1600/imagesCAKY9OZN.jpg" /></a></div><br />Other Things to consider:<br /><ul><li>When somebody passes, the funeral home will ask if you want them to be embalmed or not. Embalming is a sort of preservative. If you do not embalm, then you must be buried quickly in accordance with the law, apparently. I didn't know we actually had this choice. I say embalm me so my family isn't put under the stress of time restraints at such a time.</li><li>Clothing and other items that a person might like to be buried with. Photos, jewelery, etc.</li><li>Cremation, burial, vault, ground...etc.</li><li>Would you like to have a Viewing/Visitation with family, or what I call a Wake. </li><li>Type of ceremony - religious etc.</li><li>Is there a specific place the person would like to have the services and viewing? </li></ul><br /><div>I'm going to sit down&nbsp;with my parents and interview them about what they would like for their funerals. They have already begun planning by paying in advance, just like my dear grandmother did.&nbsp;These conversations need to&nbsp;happen so that I can truly know what their wishes are when the day comes. Although I can say for certain at that time I will be completely inconsolable. I adore my parents, and the last thing that I want to think about is their departure from this earth and from my life.&nbsp;I realize that their wishes for their funeral arrangements are sacred and important and I would like to honor them by respecting those wishes. So I've created this checklist if anybody would like to use it for themselves or their family members, for that day is inevitable and none of us can avoid it, but we can be prepared and prepare loved ones to make it easier on them when it's time to make important decisions about our funeral arrangements.</div><div><br />Good luck out there, JB</div>JustBeing AHappyBeinghttps://plus.google.com/110216159034183415738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1413349517700667667.post-19949153441769939612013-07-15T09:10:00.002-07:002015-12-09T07:47:09.148-08:00You and Me Against the World - Raising a Child With Asperger's<div style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"></span><br /></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><strong>A Mother's Love</strong></span></span></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"></span><br /></div></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zg56f5IyyCs/Uef9Bz_rvUI/AAAAAAAABXQ/fjvwtmKS8Ew/s1600/imagesCAZYHHWA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"></span></a><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">My son has Asperger's and I can't imagine him any other way.</span></div></div></div></div></div></div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">D, my son,&nbsp;recently told me about a surprisingly philosophical and religious conversation he had with his best friend. The two twelve-year-old boys had a discussion about reincarnation. They decided that you can keep getting reincarnated and end up with the same family over and over again, but sometimes they will be your Dad instead of your Mom, or your cat instead of your dog, but nobody has any memory of the life they had before. I was quite impressed as this is my understanding of reincarnation as well, although we've never had it&nbsp;come up in our own conversations before. Then after some consideration, my son added that when you get to heaven you can choose whether you want to stay there or go back to Earth. With those&nbsp;big brown eyes, he looked over at me in the driver seat and asked, "Mom, when you go to heaven, can you wait there for me instead of going back as someone different?" My heart swelled and my eyes welled as I made my promise to wait there for him with open arms someday. And I will. </span></span></div></div></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">Good vs. Evil </span></strong></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">We are not a church going family, although we've been known to drop in once every blue moon. We are, however, a believing family. The balance of good and evil is something my son clings to as an Aspergian boy. He seems to have almost too good of a grasp on what's right and what's wrong - he's a real stickler for the rules. It's great, but a little embarrassing when he catches me doing something I shouldn't be doing. This also causes problems at school when the boys his age always seem to be doing something that isn't&nbsp;exactly above par - I had to teach him that some things you just need to let go and not tell teachers about, otherwise you'll quickly run out of friends and allies at school. </span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zg56f5IyyCs/Uef9Bz_rvUI/AAAAAAAABXQ/fjvwtmKS8Ew/s1600/imagesCAZYHHWA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" iya="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zg56f5IyyCs/Uef9Bz_rvUI/AAAAAAAABXQ/fjvwtmKS8Ew/s1600/imagesCAZYHHWA.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">The good news is that he's not going to be falling for peer pressure anytime soon. It's not that he doesn't mind taking the high road, it's that something in his brain just doesn't allow him to stray from his very rigid understanding of right and wrong. It's a blessing and a curse I guess. </span><br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">I think he'd make a good cop someday, but as a&nbsp;mother,&nbsp;I wouldn't want him to have such a dangerous job. Truly, it's up to him, but I know he has a bright future. Morals are a rare thing in people these days and I think that he will stand out as an honest and reliable person when he enters the work force. Although, sometimes too honest. </span></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><strong>Daddy Dearest</strong></span></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin-left: 0.5in;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div></div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">For years I've been trying to explain to my ex what my son needs from him. He's even had notes come&nbsp;home from teachers asking him to help boost our son's self-esteem. The biggest complaint year after year is that when he's with his Dad, he is ignored. Sure, he's fed and told when to go to bed, but otherwise pretty much ignored.</span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">You may be thinking, well kids exaggerate, but I've lived with this man and I too was completely ignored for&nbsp;four&nbsp;long, nearly silent years. I have no doubt in my mind that L, my ex, should be diagnosed with OCD, and Social Anxiety Disorder, and possibly even Asperger's. Despite that, it's hard not to think of him as an&nbsp;jerk given the fact that he chooses to ignore the ones who love him most, and this includes his parents when they visit as well. But, I know under that almost impenetrable surface is a really really good man with a lot of issues that were never addressed, medicated, or even acknowledge and it really isn't his fault that he is the way he is. It makes me fight for my son even more, to ensure I'm providing him with the interventions required so he can have the soft skills his father is lacking and. </span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: &quot;verdana&quot; , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">My son, who I love and adore, has Asperger's which causes him to have social anxiety along with some quirky behaviours, just like his father. Daddy is afraid of germs, son is afraid of buttons (see post: </span><a href="http://justbeingahappybeing.blogspot.ca/2012/05/is-your-child-afraid-of-buttons.html"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">Afraid of Buttons?</span></a><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">&nbsp;). Daddy is something of a robotic personality, son still just loves to be tickled (he's almost a teen). </span></span></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin-left: 0.5in;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div></div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">They are&nbsp;both kinda different in their own way, but when ones differences negatively affects the other, what am I supposed to do? My son needs a lot of affection, reassurance, attention, and interaction from me because he misses out on a lot of that from his Dad. </span><br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Tw45cJ2RLcc/Uef9Gk-EyRI/AAAAAAAABXc/3z22tL66zvU/s1600/untitled.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" iya="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Tw45cJ2RLcc/Uef9Gk-EyRI/AAAAAAAABXc/3z22tL66zvU/s1600/untitled.bmp" /></a><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">Here's a recent email to his Dad from me:</span></div></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin-left: 0.5in;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Tw45cJ2RLcc/Uef9Gk-EyRI/AAAAAAAABXc/3z22tL66zvU/s1600/untitled.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"></span></a><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><i><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: &quot;verdana&quot; , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><strong>He needs face time – NOT screen time</strong>. He needs to know he can talk to you about school problems, kid problems, puberty, everything! He needs you to make the time to hang out, he will not decide that he should get off the computer/game to have human time – that’s your job – limit the screen time. Make rules about screen time and stick to them. (I know we’ve talked about this before) Read together, TV and movies are a good way to spend time together and discuss. Get outside, walk to the store or Tim Horton's for a hot chocolate, go for a drive, visit your mom or brother...anything! You need to fill up his weekends with <b>sustenance</b>. He’s old enough now to decided not to go to your place at all. What do you think he would do if given that option?</span></span></i></div></div></div></div></div></div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">I know that last part was harsh, but when I have to spend every second week building him back up, it's an option that I'm seriously considering.&nbsp;I know he's not being abused in the normal sense, but I consider emotional neglect a form of abuse in this case when it's affecting my son the way it does. I've had to agree to stand beside L at my son's basketball games to coach him on the appropriate things to yell out (positive, rather then negative remarks). Bless his heart, the guy is trying, but without me there to intervene, remind, and encourage, it just goes back to the way it was. Frustrating? Yes, very. My son is beginning to suggest they go on walks when they are together, which is fantasic - I always praise them both when I hear about this.</span></div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><strong><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">Step-Father Follies</span></strong></div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">Because my Fiance has two active and very social children of his own, he is a busy guy. And when his kids aren't with us, he's not in 'Dad Mode'. And because my son annoys him at times just as much as his girls annoy me, we end up with another man ignoring my son. So we are two for two in the male role model department. The nice thing though, is that we do get out together as a family so my son does benefit from the family bonding, which is becoming less and less now that the kids are getting older and have their own agendas which don't include hanging out with us parent types. Since my son does all his socializing online (gaming), he's home with me most of the time, while V, my fiance, is out taxiing his girls around. </span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rhwuseFMSSk/Uef-n5wIW2I/AAAAAAAABXw/pvW70u8nDsE/s1600/138539866-unhappy-pre-teen-boy-in-school-gettyimages.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" iya="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rhwuseFMSSk/Uef-n5wIW2I/AAAAAAAABXw/pvW70u8nDsE/s320/138539866-unhappy-pre-teen-boy-in-school-gettyimages.jpg" width="213" /></a><strong><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">So Now What?</span></strong></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">I have my son in ongoing social skills classes, he has an ABA worker,&nbsp;among other programs and activites we are engaged in through various organizations and school.</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">We are navigating the Aspergian waters pretty well now, I would say. He takes supplements (see article:</span><a href="http://justbeingahappybeing.blogspot.ca/2013/06/suppliments-for-aspergers-syndrome.html"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">Suppliments for Asperger's Syndrom - Guess What? They Work!</span></a><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">) and they are truly making life better for us. I attend parent support groups and am becoming more active in the mental health community. </span></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">We carry on. We just keep going. That is the most important thing that I hope my son learns from me, is to just keep going. </span></div><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">"Problem Solve" is a term we often use. When there is an issue big or small, we problem solve to find the solution - it's a valuable tool that is becoming more and more ingrained in his defeatist personality. My son is quick to become upset when things don't go as planned and so providing him with coping tools is important.</span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><strong>Do you have any questions about Aspergers? Do you have a story to share? Please leave a comment! </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Good luck out there,</span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">JB</span></div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: &quot;verdana&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span>&nbsp;</div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in;"></div>JustBeing AHappyBeinghttps://plus.google.com/110216159034183415738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1413349517700667667.post-40342603145880011552013-07-12T20:53:00.001-07:002014-09-07T17:41:05.623-07:00Selfies!<div dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I read somewhere that there is now etiquette for taking selfies. Such as, comb your hair, at least have a bra on, things like that. Well, here are my own tips for taking selfies that make you look ten years younger!</span></div><div dir="ltr"><br>1. Go find a picture of yourself from ten years ago and post it on the internet.&nbsp;</div><div dir="ltr"><br></div><div dir="ltr">Just kidding. </div><div dir="ltr"><br></div><div dir="ltr">Here are my real tips:</div><div dir="ltr"><br></div><div dir="ltr">Find a spot in your house with soft lighting. The best is if its filtering in from a window. Soft lighting seems to ignore wrinkles. And hotel lighting for some reason is perfect.&nbsp;</div><div dir="ltr"><br></div><div dir="ltr">Next raise the camera on an angle above your head so you have to look up a little bit...TADA! No more double chins!</div><div dir="ltr"><br>And finally, don't forget to edit your photos using Instsgram.</div><div dir="ltr"><br></div><div dir="ltr">Here are recent selfies when I was having a good mascara day. No joke: my father didn't recognize me when I posted one of these photos on FB. And I just saw my folks last weekend! What the heck?</div><div dir="ltr"><br></div><div dir="ltr"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-egl_ffaGYCg/UeLwFXEp1-I/AAAAAAAABWQ/Uq1f_9WA5kg/s1600/me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" nya="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-egl_ffaGYCg/UeLwFXEp1-I/AAAAAAAABWQ/Uq1f_9WA5kg/s400/me.jpg" width="400"></a></div>Now you try using my tricks and let me know how it turns out! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-n6gS_XjgaAQ/UeLxmrsbGPI/AAAAAAAABWg/8mr4m6dYt38/s1600/IMG_20130712_232824.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-n6gS_XjgaAQ/UeLxmrsbGPI/AAAAAAAABWg/8mr4m6dYt38/s640/IMG_20130712_232824.jpg"> </a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-PC1u7QIl6tI/UeLxtxoL0oI/AAAAAAAABWo/ac579SviDvU/s1600/IMG_20130712_234253.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-PC1u7QIl6tI/UeLxtxoL0oI/AAAAAAAABWo/ac579SviDvU/s640/IMG_20130712_234253.jpg"> </a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I read today that Kim Kardashian is publishing a book of selfies. I suppose I could do the same. I hate having my photo taken....by other people who aren't as concerned about whether I look fat or weird or crazy. That's why I'm admittedly a little sfie obsessed, just to remind myself that I can look pretty in a photo, when my picture is taken in a certain light, from a certain angle, and on a good hair and makeup day.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-2-JFmpxGi6M/U_DXSsXfiiI/AAAAAAAABcI/L95sgQ2FNwg/s640/blogger-image--635610014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-2-JFmpxGi6M/U_DXSsXfiiI/AAAAAAAABcI/L95sgQ2FNwg/s640/blogger-image--635610014.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-6et6DMOtTP4/VAz7H_GW9VI/AAAAAAAABc4/xEf2D_BsQJg/s640/blogger-image-1337136995.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-6et6DMOtTP4/VAz7H_GW9VI/AAAAAAAABc4/xEf2D_BsQJg/s640/blogger-image-1337136995.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-WqGrhb4FnCo/VAmt3dEZRrI/AAAAAAAABco/LaTz8ATkhtk/s640/blogger-image-1327172063.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-WqGrhb4FnCo/VAmt3dEZRrI/AAAAAAAABco/LaTz8ATkhtk/s640/blogger-image-1327172063.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div>JustBeing AHappyBeinghttps://plus.google.com/110216159034183415738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1413349517700667667.post-37263086746695821002013-06-03T13:09:00.003-07:002015-12-09T07:48:51.016-08:00SUPPLEMENTS FOR ASPERGER'S SYNDROME - GUESS WHAT? THEY WORK!<h3 style="border: currentColor;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-e_kvf75Z9cs/UazwNOlnI7I/AAAAAAAABUQ/UpxpkSW4iWo/s1600/untitled.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><h3><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-e_kvf75Z9cs/UazwNOlnI7I/AAAAAAAABUQ/UpxpkSW4iWo/s1600/untitled.bmp" yya="true" /></h3></a></h3><h3 style="border: currentColor;">Teachers have reported the following changes over the last 6 months, since my son started taking supplements prescribed for ASD:</h3><ul><li style="border: currentColor;">Increased eye contact</li><li style="border: currentColor;">Ownership around school work</li><li style="border: currentColor;">A&nbsp;more alert child</li><li style="border: currentColor;">Less negative facial expressions</li><li style="border: currentColor;">Less prompting to stay on task</li><li style="border: currentColor;">Self-regulation</li></ul><h3 style="border: currentColor;">Changes&nbsp;I've noticed at home:</h3><ul><li style="border: currentColor;">All symptoms of depression are gone</li><li style="border: currentColor;">Increased self-esteem</li><li style="border: currentColor;">No more self-hate talk</li><li style="border: currentColor;">Maturing </li><li style="border: currentColor;">No more one word answers</li><li style="border: currentColor;">Generally happier</li><li style="border: currentColor;">More positive outlook</li></ul><div style="border: currentColor;"><br /></div><h3 style="border: currentColor; text-align: center;">So what are these magic pills?</h3><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tDA5gpRyKN8/UazwtblAd2I/AAAAAAAABUY/EUBT0SNtCqU/s1600/untitled.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tDA5gpRyKN8/UazwtblAd2I/AAAAAAAABUY/EUBT0SNtCqU/s200/untitled.bmp" width="200" yya="true" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="border: currentColor;">My son had began spiralling so deep into depression at the end of 2012 that I was beginning to consider anti-depressants for him.&nbsp;A combination of&nbsp; social anxiety, miscommunications with peers, schoolwork stresses,&nbsp;along with low self-esteem and a short fuse were the key factors. We did breathing exercises, relaxation CDs, self-esteem worksheets, but nothing was working. He was slipping away into darkness while I struggled to keep my grip on his hand. Medicating my son was something I did not feel comfortable with and had turned my nose up to many times over the years. It was when my hair began falling out in clumps that I booked him to see his therapist and told her that if she recommend meds, I'd be on board. </div><div style="border: currentColor;"><br /></div><div style="border: currentColor;">Serendipitously, that week I attended a parent support group for those with children on the autism spectrum and there is where I met Dr. Sonya Doherty, Naturopathic Doctor. <a href="http://naturalcareclinic.ca/dr-sonya-doherty/">http://naturalcareclinic.ca/dr-sonya-doherty/</a>&nbsp;She talked about the link between dairy, wheat, and ASD;&nbsp;she spoke about supplements, and showed us a diagram of wheels on a cog and how those wheels turn more slowly for our kids in comparison to neuro-typical children. I booked a meeting with her the next day and,&nbsp;after her assessment,&nbsp;we were given a prescription for supplements and a recommended diet plan. She even gave me the opportunity to have an educational shopping trip with the clinic's nutritionist. <br /><br /><strong>Benefits of treatment include:</strong><br /><ul><li>Enhancement in receptive, expressive and spontaneous language development (was not an issue)</li><li>Increase in vocabulary, language complexity and appropriate use of language (saw this change)</li><li>Increased social awareness, interaction and appropriate play (saw this change)</li><li>Cognition, understanding and learning (saw this change)</li><li>Eye contact and responsiveness (saw this change)</li><li>Normalized behaviours and interaction including self-stimulating, self-injurious, tics and aggression (saw this change)</li><li>Understanding and feeling emotions, affection or increased tolerance to touch (saw this change)</li></ul></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><br /></div><h3 style="border: currentColor;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-07qw20HRZt0/UazyCco9GVI/AAAAAAAABUs/9mPSYz-V8SE/s1600/imagesCARI75YN.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-07qw20HRZt0/UazyCco9GVI/AAAAAAAABUs/9mPSYz-V8SE/s200/imagesCARI75YN.jpg" width="200" yya="true" /></a></h3><h3 style="border: currentColor;">How Did I Get Him to Take the Supplements?</h3><div style="border: currentColor;">I introduced each supplement in monthly increments. First was St. John's Wort (for depression), then the Vitamin B injection (best way to absorb this particular vitamin), then the specially prescribed Beneficial Oils<br />in pill form and we just added the specially formulated multivitamin, Brain Fuel&nbsp;to his regime. <br /><br />My son had to learn&nbsp;to swallow pills which took some encouragement and now it is just a part of everyday life. <strong>Here's a trick that worked</strong> - practice swallowing Nerds candies starting with the small ones and working up to the larger ones. He understands why he takes each supplement and what the intended result is for each. I think that forcing a child to do something 'because I said so' isn't the way to gain their cooperation. I treat my son with respect, he has the right to know what I'm suggesting he put into his body and why. Although he has said that he does not want to cure his Asperger's because it makes him who he is, he does posses the desire to lessen the negative feelings and consequences that come along with the the disorder. The thing about Aspie's, I find, is that they are immature in some ways and wise beyond their years in others. <br /><br /><strong>St. John's Wort </strong><br />"Those who have Asperger's syndrome, an autism spectrum disorder characterized by impaired social and communication skills, can often find themselves feeling <strong>anxious, nervous, or depressed</strong>. One form of treatment for these symptoms is St John's Wort, a herbal supplement that can be purchased at health stores or online. The St John's Wort asperger's syndrome treatment option is helpful for certain people, particularly those with milder symptoms." <a href="http://www.healthguideinfo.com/aspergers-syndrome/p77260/">http://www.healthguideinfo.com/aspergers-syndrome/p77260/</a><br /><br /><strong>Vitamin B12 Injections</strong><br />Dr. S. Jill James (who has&nbsp;recently received a NIH&nbsp;- National Institute of Health&nbsp;- grant for her research) has shown that&nbsp;children with ASD have impaired methylation and decreased levels of glutathione.&nbsp; Supporting and/or repairing the underlying impairment and deficiency translates into&nbsp;<strong>increased social, cognitive and language development. <a href="http://treatautism.ca/b12-and-methylation/">http://treatautism.ca/b12-and-methylation/</a></strong><br /><strong>Beneficial Oils</strong>"Two American researchers, Louise Patrick, SLP, and Ronald M. Salik, M.D., have recently reported the results of a clinical trial of the effects of a fish-oil supplement on language development and learning skills in children with autism or Asperger’s syndrome. <strong>Fish oil provides essential fatty acids (EFAS), which are critical for brain health. Children with attention deficit, autistic, and related disorders have been shown to have significantly lower levels of EFAS in their red blood cells.</strong>" <a href="http://www.totalhealthmagazine.com/features/childrens-health/fish-oil-supplementation-and-autism-aspergers-syndrome.html">http://www.totalhealthmagazine.com/features/childrens-health/fish-oil-supplementation-and-autism-aspergers-syndrome.html</a><br /><br /><strong>Brain Fuel </strong></div><div style="border: currentColor;">"Brain Fuel was developed by Dr. Sonya Doherty in conjunction with her sister, a biomedical toxicologist and naturopathic doctor specializing in fertility treatment.&nbsp; The Brain Fuel ingredients are based on the most recent research on essential fatty acids and development. <strong>Brain Fuel is used to promote language, social and cognitive development for children with autism, PDD, Asperger’s Syndrome, OCD, TS, ADD and ADHD</strong>.&nbsp; It combines fat soluble vitamins (A, E, D, and K) with high levels of EPA, DHA with a small amount of GLA.&nbsp; Brain Fuel is in a phosopholipid base that increases effectiveness. This unique essential fatty acid support is made by Douglas Laboratories and distributed by the Natural Care Clinic." See the website above to order online.<br />The only drawback is that the supplements can run me about $100 per month, but they are well worth it, given the results. I suspect that changing his diet will even further increase his abilities, and maybe now is the time to start. I also&nbsp;hope to be able to switch him to the pill form of vitamin B, so that I don't have to continue giving him a needle in his backside into his teen years. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It is six months later and his social skills still need a lot of work, but I couldn't be more thrilled with the report I received from the school. Now that we have added the&nbsp;Brain Fuel supplement, I look forward to seeing even more progress. Of course supplements alone can't do it all.&nbsp;A support team of professionals, school supports, and social supports are all key factors in bringing your child to a level of Independence that will give him solid ground to stand on as he navigates the teen years and adulthood.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><strong>If you have any questions regarding this subject, please leave a comment. I'm happy to share my experience with you or learn from yours.</strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Good luck out there,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">JB</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">﻿</div>JustBeing AHappyBeinghttps://plus.google.com/110216159034183415738noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1413349517700667667.post-87623106123144926892013-05-03T11:21:00.000-07:002014-05-07T10:27:03.582-07:00The Interview - A Fortune Cookie Story <div class="title"><h1>The Interview</h1>A young reporter meets her idol.<br /><br />Written by Sylvia Wells<br /><br /></div><div class="article">Checking myself one last time in the mirror, I decided that there was nothing more I could do, I hated fussing over my appearance and it was finally time to go. Wondering, as I walked out of my hotel room, if I had gone overboard by wearing the band's signature colors in my small attempt to prove something to them -&nbsp;even if I wasn't even sure what I was trying to prove. <br />Jack had mentioned once in an interview with a British reporter that he liked the idea of his band and any direct associates having a uniform of sorts in the colors they wore when they were on tour, on stage, doing a photo shoot, or rehearsing. Before starting his first band, The Upholsters, he was considering becoming a school minister; he liked the idea that everyone dressed the same but had their own unique personalities, he had said. How intriguing that the man who was voted number seventeen in the Rolling Stones list of the top 100 rock guitarists of all time, had once considered becoming a minister. <br /><br />Although I was wearing black, red, and white from head to toe, I didn't want to look like a groupie; I wanted them to see me a serious journalist who happened to be a fan. But more than that I wanted their respect and I wanted to be a part of what they were. Choosing to wear a pair of wide legged black dress pants, a crisp white colored shirt, red heels and a red wool jacket was not enough. I added black earrings, a black and white bracelet and a chunky red necklace to complete the ensemble. Would he even notice my intricately selected wardrobe I mused? <br /><br />I fully expected Jack to be the one doing all the talking in our meeting, as was the case in all the interviews of him and Meg, the sole members of the band. I flagged down a cab when I reached the street outside the Soho, where I was staying in New York for a few days on my mission to fulfill a dream. <br /><br />Pulling up to the front of the rehearsal studio my palms began to sweat and panic swept over me in a flash of heat. Full of doubt, fear, and nerves, I passed a few bills over the seat to the driver and slowly climbed out of the cab. The cool Fall wind gave me the slap in the face I needed to pull myself together. "You are a professional. They are wildly successful musicians, but they are human just like you." It was a mantra I had been repeating to myself in the weeks leading up to this day. Raising my chin an inch I walked confidently toward the glass double doors of the building which looked like the outside an old theater. Inside looked like a normal office reception area except it had gold records and pictures of famous artists hanging on the walls.<br /><br />"May I help you?" asked the young woman behind the reception desk.<br /><br />Trying not to let my voice jump all over the place I said, "I have an appointment with Mr. White." <br /><br />The young blonde's face lit up at the sound of his name, she must have been about twenty. "You can go right in, they are in Studio B." <br />I thanked her and followed her&nbsp;arm gesture down the hallway to her right where I found a door marked 'Studio B'. I could feel the receptionist's eyes on me as I stood with my hand on the door knob inhaling and exhaling slowly, preparing myself for the initial shock of meeting him in person. Praying that I wouldn't turn into a school girl and start blushing and giggling, but keep my cool; I didn't have a crush on him after all. The mission here was to gain consent to write his biography and the biography of what was possibly the most intriguing band to emerge in the last twenty years. Gushing over him would not win me that honor, but keeping my composure and staying relaxed, treating him like a regular person, and treating the interview like a business venture would be the best way to go about it. We both had something to gain. He would have a person who respected him to write his story and I would have no trouble selling the story; so in the end it was a win-win situation. <br /><br />On my last calming breath I turned the knob quickly to enter the room, my chin again fixed in an upward position. However, somebody from inside turned the knob too, pulling the door inward while taking a step forward out into the hall. The motion of the door pulled me crashing face first into a hard, fantastic smelling male chest. Surprisingly the man I crashed into didn't waiver but caught me by the shoulders with both hands and gently stood me back on my feet an awkward few inches away from him. With embarrassment scribbled all over my face I looked up into the face of Jack White. <br /><br />"Hello." His voice was deep and sweet, a slight look of concern in his dark brown eyes.<br /><br />"Hello." I said trying to regain my balance by widening my stance. "I'm Samantha; I'm here for our meeting." Noticing that we were still very close to each other, I smiled and took a step back to hold out my hand. <br /><br />Taking my hand in a firm shake as he guided me into Studio B, Jack smiled down at me and said, "I like your jacket".<br /><br />Fortune Cookies: (where ideas come from)<br />You and a friend will follow your dreams. <br />You will meet a very important artist one evening.</div>JustBeing AHappyBeinghttps://plus.google.com/110216159034183415738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1413349517700667667.post-3690594836196162412013-04-25T19:54:00.003-07:002015-12-09T07:49:14.828-08:00JUST AS I AM<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qF-ulf2Gs00/UXnpnVRksbI/AAAAAAAABS8/ArISoZ48OR0/s1600/imagesCA0X9D4Z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qF-ulf2Gs00/UXnpnVRksbI/AAAAAAAABS8/ArISoZ48OR0/s1600/imagesCA0X9D4Z.jpg" /></a></div><div>&nbsp;</div><div>&nbsp;</div>Now that I'm 36, I've decided to go in a radically new direction with my life. Forward.&nbsp;Dead ahead, if you'll excuse the pun, as I stumble ever&nbsp;closer to the latter half of my days on this earth.<br /><div>&nbsp;</div>My new adventure begins with creating&nbsp;an anti-resolution list:<br /><div>&nbsp;</div><ul><li><strong>This year I vow never to diet again</strong>. To&nbsp;not&nbsp;waste another penny or thought or breath, saying 'It's not a diet, it's a lifestyle change." It's always a diet if you're main goal is to lose weight, and I'm a fool for every thinking otherwise. </li><li>I will never sign up for another life source draining exercise class as long as I live. Which means I will never have to&nbsp;listen to another middle aged&nbsp;woman yell out "eight more!" after I thought the last eight more was only going to be eight more, as I silently wish for <span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;georgia&quot; , &quot;serif&quot;; font-size: 11.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;">spontaneously combust so the class will be over</span>.</li><li>I will never buy clothes that are just a little snug in the hopes to fit into them <em>soon</em>.</li><li>I will stop responding with violence when my fiancé lets his eyes rest on my midsection for just a fraction too long.</li><li>I will eat whatever I crave while PMS-ing. However, I <em>will not</em> eat that food to the point of guilt, shame, or to the state of being in a chocolate coma.</li></ul><div>&nbsp;</div>What I will do this year:<br /><ul><li>&nbsp;<strong>I will get paid what I'm worth.</strong></li><li>I will go for walks when I feel like it, take the stairs at work just to be sure I still&nbsp;have a pulse at 3:00 PM, and walk the treadmill at the gym when it's cold outside - because I want to catch up on my audio book and get away from the kids.</li><li>I will control my habits by understanding them.</li><li>I will always find something to be grateful for, even when it's difficult to do.</li><li>I will continue to love and accept those around me and cherish those close to my heart.</li><li>I will love myself every single day, JUST AS I AM.</li></ul><div>&nbsp;</div>2013 has kind of sucked so far...and it's been kind of great too. I've made friends, lost friends, caught up with old friends and&nbsp;deepened friendships at work. I've postponed my wedding due to my future father-in-law being diagnosed with and beginning cancer treatment, watched my ex-father-in-law fade away and leave this earth, had to tell my son his grandfather was gone, and chose not celebrate my birthday for the first time in 36 years. On the flipside, my son was accepted into a program that will save us thousands of&nbsp;dollars&nbsp;in private school expenses, my fiancé has offered to take me to NYC for a belated birthday gift, and I did get to&nbsp;plan half of my wedding, which was fun. I now know what direction I want to take my career, and I also got some highlights&nbsp;in my hair which look fantastic. So, you know, it's been a good bad year.<br /><div>&nbsp;</div>While all these things are happening in and around my life, <em>things</em> are happening in the world too. &nbsp;North Korea is playing with nuclear weapons, and monsters are bombing the Boston Marathon. Closer to home, two men were arrested for plotting to bomb a passenger train. <br />&nbsp; <br />When I stop to&nbsp;look around, I feel like things are spiraling out of control around me on all levels, but I'm grateful. There was a quote I often recall which was on the wall of my grade ten English class that read, "If we never cried, would laughing feel so good?" So, along&nbsp;with the bad, I am grateful for&nbsp;every minute&nbsp;I have and every person&nbsp;I love. I refuse to waste another second feeling bad about myself, my hair, wrinkles, butt, thighs, or whatever - I am only grateful for all of those things now. The wrinkles on my face tell me I'm lucky to have lived this long and the fat on my ass tells me that I can afford to indulge. I'm a spin doctor from this day forward, because my attitude is the only thing that is truly within my control.<br /><div>&nbsp;</div>So this year I choose love....and maybe drink a little more wine than I did in 2012.&nbsp;Screw the calories.<br /><div>&nbsp;</div>Good luck out there,<br /><div>&nbsp;</div>JB<br /><div>&nbsp;</div><div>&nbsp;</div><div>&nbsp;</div><div>&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-aYE86cgUJOQ/UeDS831FH2I/AAAAAAAABVo/57ACO96EJVY/s1600/IMG_20130712_232824.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" height="200" src="https://lh5.ggpht.com/-aYE86cgUJOQ/UeDS831FH2I/AAAAAAAABVo/57ACO96EJVY/s640/IMG_20130712_232824.jpg" width="200" /> </a> </div>JustBeing AHappyBeinghttps://plus.google.com/110216159034183415738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1413349517700667667.post-81381314162011479872012-10-17T07:00:00.002-07:002015-12-09T07:49:34.857-08:00Getting My Boy to Read (And Love It!)<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-L3p0KiOk2YY/UH650YfEr6I/AAAAAAAABHE/hIBGuj4Zrxo/s1600/untitled.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" nea="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-L3p0KiOk2YY/UH650YfEr6I/AAAAAAAABHE/hIBGuj4Zrxo/s200/untitled.bmp" width="137" /></a>My son reads at almost a grade nine level. He's in grade 7. You'd think that he'd like to read, right? Wrong. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">It's partially because of his sensory issues (he doesn't like the feel of paper) (<a href="http://justbeingahappybeing.blogspot.ca/2012/05/aspergers-disorderly-road-to-getting_27.html" target="_blank">see Asperger's - The Road to a Diagnosis</a>) and partially because he's always in a rush and doesn't slow down to digest what he's reading unless it's something that really interests him, like YouTube comments. Although his reading ability is very high, his reading comprehension is quite low based on testing, and getting him to read books seems to be the solution, tied in with discussions around what he has read. </div><br />I took a class this summer around learning disabilities and found that some kids just don't compute the words they are reading, sometimes it's easier for them to grasp and retain information when it is read to them by one of the many text to speech programs now available. I didn't want to discourage reading, so we fooled around on Audible.com, listening to samples of books, until we found one that he liked; Alcatraz vs. the Evil Librarians, by Brandon Sanderson. We swung by the library that same day and picked up the book to supplement our audio story telling experience. <br /><br />Normally we read in his room, but I decided to take the reading out of the bedroom and make it an anywhere in the house activity. That evening, I made some hot chocolate while my son grabbed some blankets and pillows for the couch, what we would have done for special movie watching nights. Then we&nbsp;hunkered down on the couch together to read along&nbsp;while the story played on the laptop, filling the room with an air of intrigue and adventure.<br /><br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K1kntd65jqg/UH66Zplk-KI/AAAAAAAABHU/ibeZUfuHlp0/s1600/imagesCAXA3D7Z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" nea="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K1kntd65jqg/UH66Zplk-KI/AAAAAAAABHU/ibeZUfuHlp0/s200/imagesCAXA3D7Z.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Are you thinking grade seven is too old to be having read-alongs? I wondered that myself, but he was reading along in the book and that's what matters to me right now. He was also asking for <em>one more chapter</em> before bed, which was music to my ears. That night as I left his room, he asked if he could stay up a little longer to do some reading. Mission accomplished. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I know my son is benefitting, not only from the reading activity and discussions, but from our additional quality time together, and so am I. I think my next step will be to buy him an eReader to eleviate his need to hold on to a paper book, which gives him <em>goose bumps</em>. He will be more relaxed and be able to enjoy the reading activity even more - I hope. </div><br />If you have any suggestions for great <strong>boys books</strong>, please leave a comment.<br /><br />Good luck out there,<br />JBJustBeing AHappyBeinghttps://plus.google.com/110216159034183415738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1413349517700667667.post-33189531835736814822012-09-29T07:33:00.006-07:002012-10-02T05:57:27.222-07:00Mind Over Cancer<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-B0UfQhr0GPI/UGcEWImf1gI/AAAAAAAABF8/DB740Idr7WA/s1600/imagesCAH8NGLI.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="166" kea="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-B0UfQhr0GPI/UGcEWImf1gI/AAAAAAAABF8/DB740Idr7WA/s200/imagesCAH8NGLI.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">My Father-In-Law was recently informed that Cancer has been detected on his liver. The liver is a major organ, and my fiance, Victor,&nbsp;and I are trying hard not to freak out. Joel, his dad, is a lovely man who takes pleasure in the simple things in life, like tending to his garden and torturing his wife. He came to Canada from Portugal as a young man, and&nbsp;was one of the founding members of the Canadian Portuguese&nbsp;Society and Community Centre in Toronto.&nbsp;There is a framed letter from the Mayor, recognizing his contribution to the community, hanging in the hall of Victor's&nbsp;childhood home. </div><br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Joel is 85 years old, but a young 85; he has a great laugh and, as I said, gets much pleasure out of teasing his wife. Margaret, his wife, spends most of her time saying, "Oh Joel" and rolling her eyes. He is a great father, the kind who sticks up for his sons no matter what. According to the stories Victor told me of the trouble he and his brother used to get into as a teenagers,&nbsp;his Dad never let him down. Never. This morning Victor, sounding more like a child than an adult in his forties said, "I always thought my Dad was invincible." Tears filled my eyes as I thought of having to comfort him through what will be the toughest thing he'll ever have to go through, watching his father die. I'm not writing Joel off, but this kind of news can get you preparing yourself for the worst. "If this goes badly, it's going to be a very stressful time for all of us," Victor said, as I watched him droop his head and then give it a little shake to recover himself.&nbsp;If we lose Joel, that means we inherit Margaret, and Victor's brother Julio who is two years older than him and has schizophrenia. It would mean a shit-ton of added stress to our family and relationship. I rarely see Victor as it is because his daughter is in rep soccer all year long, and&nbsp; what's worse, I think I'm going to be the one stuck with looking after his Mom who is the definition of persnickety. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GPpiB6TlEis/UGcEqyf-ZcI/AAAAAAAABGE/jYLHwAJjsus/s1600/untitled11.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" kea="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GPpiB6TlEis/UGcEqyf-ZcI/AAAAAAAABGE/jYLHwAJjsus/s200/untitled11.bmp" width="200" /></a>Everyone knows that it's a bad idea&nbsp;to look up illness on the Internet because it will only frighten the hell out&nbsp;of you. An interesting discussion came out of Victor's Internet search, however, he found that people who seemed perfectly healthy, faded rather&nbsp;quickly after being&nbsp;told they had&nbsp;a certain amount of time to live.&nbsp;A man mentioned that his&nbsp;mother seemed normal until receiving her diagnosis, and then died six weeks later! We got to thinking&nbsp;that part of it must be&nbsp;psychological, if a doctor tells you you're going to die in a few months, you tend to believe him.&nbsp;&nbsp;If we thought we had a fighting chance, would we live longer in those situations? Consider people who, in the face of Cancer, turn to holistic medicine, a big part of the holistic approach is simply believing that it will work; mind over Cancer. What if doctors changed the way they diagnose us, using different words to describe our situation, and leaving it up to the patient, in their mind,&nbsp;to decide their own fate? Would patients live longer after diagnosis if they thought it was possible?<br /><br />Update: We have now been informed that it is not just Liver Cancer, but also Kidney. A biopsy has been scheduled, and from what we've read the fact that it's in more than one place means that it has spread. Spreading mean stage four. My husband has quickly moved from scared to angry, and I don't blame him. We won't have the official diagnosis for a few weeks, but I guess now we're prepared for the worst. With Christmas around the corner, we are now considering a big family trip to relax and enjoy our time together, I hope we have that long. </div><br />Do you know anyone who used holistic medicine to ward off Cancer? <br />Do you know anyone who has had liver cancer?<br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I'd love to hear from you, please leave a comment.</div><br />Good luck out there,<br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">JB</div><br />JustBeing AHappyBeinghttps://plus.google.com/110216159034183415738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1413349517700667667.post-51327589956220181432012-09-27T11:34:00.001-07:002015-12-09T07:49:54.256-08:00Robin Hood - TV Series On Netflix<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">&nbsp;<span style="color: windowtext; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">Everyone and their brother knows that Little John and Friar Tuck are members of Robin's infamous, and unfortunately named, Merry Men. And Maid Marion, well, every little girl wants to be Maid Marion and be loved by the witty, charming, do-gooder/outlaw Robin Hood. Robin Hood is a true classic, there's no doubt about it.</span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin-left: 37.5pt;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OY9ivZbDoj8/UGSXQxJ1rJI/AAAAAAAABDk/w-njI4G84vY/s1600/images3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kea="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OY9ivZbDoj8/UGSXQxJ1rJI/AAAAAAAABDk/w-njI4G84vY/s1600/images3.jpg" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin-left: 37.5pt;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin-left: 37.5pt;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;;"></span><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">The very first Robin I remember seeing on the TV screen was the Disney version, a big fat bear played the role of Little John, and Robin, of course, was cast as a clever fox. Then Kevin Costner played the hero in Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves. Accompanied by a cast of stars and an amazing soundtrack by Canadian, Brian Adams, it was instantly my new favourite movie.&nbsp;The next Robin I&nbsp;came across was handsome, clever,&nbsp;and ridiculous, in Mel Brooks' Robin Hood, Men In Tights. In 2010, yet another Robin made it to the big screen in the body of Russell Crowe - I watched and enjoyed it. And finally, about a month ago, I come across&nbsp;a great British SERIES on Netflix simply called Robin Hood, featuring a slightly younger Robin than I'm used to seeing. The timing couldn't be better, as my son and I just finished reading a chapter book of the Adventures of Robin Hood.</span></span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F5aTAAKH44k/UGSXpW7xvcI/AAAAAAAABD8/j5sTxId8Lhw/s1600/untitled8.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" kea="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F5aTAAKH44k/UGSXpW7xvcI/AAAAAAAABD8/j5sTxId8Lhw/s1600/untitled8.bmp" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-anbXFTrsnEw/UGSboC99A5I/AAAAAAAABFI/QAW6ZSrTkn4/s1600/untitled7.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kea="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-anbXFTrsnEw/UGSboC99A5I/AAAAAAAABFI/QAW6ZSrTkn4/s1600/untitled7.bmp" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fQa-ps38VUk/UGSYkeeXUqI/AAAAAAAABEU/7nNrfNuiNRc/s1600/MV5BMTI2NzY5Mjk4OV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTYwODExOTk5__V1__SY317_CR11%252C0%252C214%252C317_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" kea="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fQa-ps38VUk/UGSYkeeXUqI/AAAAAAAABEU/7nNrfNuiNRc/s200/MV5BMTI2NzY5Mjk4OV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTYwODExOTk5__V1__SY317_CR11%252C0%252C214%252C317_.jpg" width="135" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">﻿﻿﻿﻿ ﻿ ﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿ ﻿ ﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿</div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">I never thought much of Guy of Gisborne or the <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Sheriff</span> of Nottingham from the movies, except that they were always pretty evil, however, the bad guys often steal the show in this version of Robin Hood. The Sheriff is hilariously despicable; he takes so much pleasure in torturing prisoners, as well as Guy, and his guards, and anybody that will make Robin take notice. Guy is&nbsp;kind of sexy (I like bad boys)&nbsp;and almost likable, until he does something unforgivable under the Sheriff’s command, often not bothering to protest, and even more often seeming to enjoy it. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">﻿ ﻿﻿﻿</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin-left: 37.5pt;"><br /></div><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-92isOucOt1k/UGSXUtzvJEI/AAAAAAAABDs/PBu9_udT-nM/s1600/untitled1.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" kea="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-92isOucOt1k/UGSXUtzvJEI/AAAAAAAABDs/PBu9_udT-nM/s200/untitled1.bmp" width="150" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">Gisborne</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin-left: 37.5pt;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">The band of Merry Men are courageous, funny, and not <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">all</i> men. It’s a little embarrassing how they worship Robin, giving so much authority to such a young fellow, although he is quite wily and bossy making him believable as their leader. The show is action packed, humorous, and encourages independent thinking, while concreting the idea that doing the right thing isn’t always the easy thing.</span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin-left: 37.5pt;"><br /></div><br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin-left: 37.5pt;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;;"></span><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">I'm enjoying&nbsp;watching the show with my son and, once again, I am so thankful for hidden gems like these on Netflix! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EbevGu46DRg/UGSXnuGB2XI/AAAAAAAABD0/8vIXotpjAUI/s1600/images6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kea="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EbevGu46DRg/UGSXnuGB2XI/AAAAAAAABD0/8vIXotpjAUI/s1600/images6.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Good luck out there,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">JB﻿</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>JustBeing AHappyBeinghttps://plus.google.com/110216159034183415738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1413349517700667667.post-55876921646959410192012-09-21T08:24:00.002-07:002012-09-21T09:57:05.645-07:00A Liebster For Me, A Liebster For You<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mNNkfJT2bxQ/UFyEYsOZl-I/AAAAAAAABAg/tRRq4QYxswU/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hea="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mNNkfJT2bxQ/UFyEYsOZl-I/AAAAAAAABAg/tRRq4QYxswU/s1600/images.jpg" /></a></div><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">I’ve always loved writing, from poetry to short stories and novels, and now, blogging. I’m fairly new to the blogging world, and have recently decided to give twitter another try – I’m hooked this time. I’ve begun to build a group of peers with whom I share my blog posts and read their blogs in return, and they truly are a group of clever and hilarious people. After floundering for the first six months of this year, I’m finally starting to feel like I’m heading in the right direction. And then Andi-Roo at (<a href="https://twitter.com/theworld4realz"><span style="color: purple;">https://twitter.com/theworld4realz</span></a>) was sweet enough to include me as one of her nominees for the Liebster Award. <o:p></o:p></span><br /><br /><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">The Liebster Award</span></b><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';"> is basically a fun way to pass along some info about yourself and help out other bloggers at the same time. The gist of it is that you answer the 11 questions you are provided and then pass along 11 new questions to your own list of 11 nominees who you think deserve&nbsp;some recognition.<o:p></o:p></span><br /><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br /></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">And-Roo’s questions</span></u></b><u><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">: <o:p></o:p></span></u></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">Here are my answers to the questions I was given.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';"><o:p></o:p></span></div><br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><b><i><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">You can have a half-hour conversation with anyone no longer living. Who do you choose? Why?<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Jane Austen – I would thank her for giving me a false expectation of what men would be like when I started dating. Not once has anybody said that they ardently admire and love me. Not once Jane!</span><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ll2iXai3gb8/UFyEWh0MKnI/AAAAAAAABAY/T-kYVNvvKZE/s1600/untitled.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="125" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ll2iXai3gb8/UFyEWh0MKnI/AAAAAAAABAY/T-kYVNvvKZE/s200/untitled.bmp" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><b><i><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">You can have a half-hour conversation with any fictional character. Who do you </span></i></b></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><b><i><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">choose? Why?<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy – but we wouldn’t be doin' no talkin’!</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">&nbsp;<b><i>Of these four characters, which do you most resemble in your own life?</i></b><o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">— The Protagonist (Shit just happens when you’re around.): Dorothy / Harry Potter</span></i><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">— The Brains (You think of ways to avoid / escape the shit.): Scarecrow / Hermione Granger</span></i><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">— The Heart (Everyone loves you when the shit hits the fan.): Tin Woodman / Ron Weasley</span></i><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">— The Hero (“Who’s a coward now that shit just got REAL, bitches?”): Cowardly Lion / Neville Longbottom</span></i><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';"><o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">That question is full of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">shit</i>. I guess I would be a combination of the four, I’m pretty well rounded….and shit. <o:p></o:p></span><br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R9amNH1iHho/UFyE3E4NtyI/AAAAAAAABAw/xMqhPA4d6NY/s1600/6Q4MG00Z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R9amNH1iHho/UFyE3E4NtyI/AAAAAAAABAw/xMqhPA4d6NY/s200/6Q4MG00Z.jpg" width="200" /></a><b><i><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';"></span></i></b></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><b><i><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">What made you choose your current Twitter avi?<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">It just makes me smile knowingly whenever I look at it. She looks a little drunk and for some reason, and I know the feeling, she seems like she really, really, really needed that martini.</span><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div><b><i><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">What’s your blood type? Just kidding. Trick question. Now go pee in a cup. I’M JOKING. Gosh, why so freaking serious? For realz this time: Are you down with True Blood?<o:p></o:p></span></i></b><br /><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Does Lafayette wear lip gloss? Hell Yes!<o:p></o:p></span><br /><br /><b><i><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">How many pairs of shoes do you have? Don’t lie. It’s good to feel the shame. Let it burn.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b><br /><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">I would guess that I have around twenty. But I don’t like any of them. To the mall!</span><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';"><o:p></o:p></span><br /><br /><b><i><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">Pushpins? Or dry erase markers?</span></i></b><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';"><o:p></o:p></span><br /><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">Both. Plus spreadsheets, phone reminders, lists on the fridge, lists to keep track of my lists, and more lists on my phone.&nbsp;I love my Samsung&nbsp;Galaxy.</span><br /><br /><b><i><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">You’re throwing darts at your favorite local pub. Your choice: Are you tossing at a cork board or one of those plastic mechanical pieces of crap?</span></i></b><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';"><o:p></o:p></span><br /><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">I grew up with a dartboard at the end of the hall on the main floor, my parents are avid players. If only I could do math, I’d be a real threat at the local pub.<o:p></o:p></span><br /><br /><b><i><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">How often do you utilize your local library? What materials do you check out? Books, CDs, books on CD, DVDs… some even carry video games…</span></i></b><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';"><o:p></o:p></span><br /><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">I used to get books on tape from the library until I discovered Audible. </span><br /><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">I bring my son there when he has a project to work on just for a change of scenery and some quiet. </span><br /><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">Even with all the monitors and workstations, I still get a sense of nostalgia when I go to the library. It’s a safe place.<o:p></o:p></span><br /><br /><b><i><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">Be honest: Did you, or did you not, read and adore “Are You There God? It’s Me, </span></i></b><br /><b><i><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">Margaret” by Judy Blume? Best book EV.ER, #AmIRight ? Is there a male equivalent, anyone? #AskingForAFriend<o:p></o:p></span></i></b><br /><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">Nope. I was too busy reading War and Peace as a child.<o:p></o:p></span><br /><br /><b><i><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">Chinese or Mexican? I know, it’s a toss-up. CHOOSE. My dinner might just depend upon your answer.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b><br /><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Chinese is too questionable and Mexican is too spicy. The most exotic I get is Japanese, but only the cooked stuff.<o:p></o:p></span><br /><br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QAH3OZqyeys/UFyEaBt3gmI/AAAAAAAABAo/PQJGksqWIJo/s1600/imagesCA2QBJ62.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hea="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QAH3OZqyeys/UFyEaBt3gmI/AAAAAAAABAo/PQJGksqWIJo/s1600/imagesCA2QBJ62.jpg" /></a><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';"></span></u></b></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">A Liebster For You!<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></div><br /><b><i><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">Here are my 11 nominees in no particular order. I don’t know a lot of bloggers, so this was a great way to explore and find even more new Bliends (blogger friends – I just made that word up, maybe it will stick). <o:p></o:p></span></i></b><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Susan at <a href="http://zebraspolkadotsandplaids.blogspot.com/" target="post">A Journey...</a></span><span lang="EN" style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Andrea Jolene at <a href="http://mshester.blogspot.com/" target="post">It's Me, Andrea</a></span><span lang="EN" style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Peggy Rice at <a href="http://ruerice.blogspot.com/" target="post">Rue Rice</a></span><span lang="EN" style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Simply Sienna-Style defined at <a href="http://simply-sienna.blogspot.com/" target="post"><span style="color: purple;">Simply Sienna - Style defined</span></a></span><span lang="EN" style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><o:p></o:p></span><br /><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">the paper bug at <a href="http://thepaperbug.blogspot.com/" target="post">the paper bug</a></span><span lang="EN" style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><o:p></o:p></span><br /><span lang="EN" style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Simply Kelly Blog at <a href="http://www.simplykellyblog.com/">www.simplykellyblog.com/</a></span><br /><span lang="EN" style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span><span lang="EN" style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">On Another Adventure at <a href="http://www.expatcdn.blogspot.ca/"><span style="color: purple;">www.expatcdn.blogspot.ca</span></a> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span><o:p></o:p></span><br /><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">Eccentrics United <a href="http://www.eccentricsunited.blogspot.ca/">www.eccentricsunited.blogspot.ca/</a> <o:p></o:p></span><br /><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">Austen Blog <a href="http://www.austenblog.com/">www.austenblog.com/</a><o:p></o:p></span><br /><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">God, I Love Paris <a href="http://www.godiloveparis.blogspot.ca/">www.godiloveparis.blogspot.ca/</a> </span><br /><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';"><span lang="EN" style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Stouffville Problems (@StouffvilleProb on Twitter) Not sure if she they have a blog, but deserve a shout-out for being a fellow small towner!</span></span><br /><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';"><br />&nbsp;</span><br /><o:p></o:p><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">And Now, the New Questions:<o:p></o:p></span></u></b><br /><div style="margin-left: 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font: 7pt 'Times New Roman';">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span></span><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">Have you ever been told by a stranger to be quiet at the movie theatre?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font: 7pt 'Times New Roman';">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span></span><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">What is your favourite movie of all time in the history of movies?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font: 7pt 'Times New Roman';">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span></span><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">What is your favourite book of all time in the history of books?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4.<span style="font: 7pt 'Times New Roman';">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span></span><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">Sparkly or Scary vampires?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">5.<span style="font: 7pt 'Times New Roman';">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span></span><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">Quick! Name all the Provinces in Canada – Just Kidding! <o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">6.<span style="font: 7pt 'Times New Roman';">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span></span><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">Darcy or Bingham?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">7.<span style="font: 7pt 'Times New Roman';">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span></span><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">New Year’s Eve or Valentine’s Day?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">8.<span style="font: 7pt 'Times New Roman';">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span></span><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">Do you even try to remember something for more than a minute before turning to Google?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">9.<span style="font: 7pt 'Times New Roman';">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span></span><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>Do you Tweet? Pin? FB? Google+?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">10.<span style="font: 7pt 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span></span><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">Lake or Ocean?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">11.<span style="font: 7pt 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span></span><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>Would you be a villain or a hero if you had superpowers?</span></div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';"><o:p>Congratulations to all!</o:p></span></div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';"><o:p>Good luck out there,</o:p></span></div><div style="margin-left: 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';"><o:p>JB</o:p></span></div>JustBeing AHappyBeinghttps://plus.google.com/110216159034183415738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1413349517700667667.post-55788812157213954472012-09-19T10:51:00.000-07:002015-12-09T07:50:14.859-08:00How to Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NAnXmfezcS8/UFoM8hlHS8I/AAAAAAAAA-w/ME6QmC_BiI0/s1600/book+book.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><strong><img border="0" hea="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NAnXmfezcS8/UFoM8hlHS8I/AAAAAAAAA-w/ME6QmC_BiI0/s1600/book+book.bmp" /></strong></span></a><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"></span></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">The ideals in this book are not tools to manipulate your children into obeying your will, they are a way to communicate empathy, love, and acceptance at times when those are the hardest emotions to convey. The most satisfying result is not when your children do as they should, but when they begin to treat themselves and others with empathy and become problem solvers themselves.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /><strong><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot;;">How to Talk So Kids Will Listen &amp; Listen So Kids Will Talk</span></strong><br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot;;">by&nbsp;Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish</span></strong></div></div><br /></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">Putting the book into action:</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">Note This!</span></strong></div><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">My son doesn't always remember to clean up his crumbs after breakfast, so I thought it would be cute to leave him a note on the table: <em>It's a bummer to see crumbs here :)</em></span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">"I always clean up my crumbs!" he barked at me upon sitting down and seeing the note. </span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">It was my first attempt at one of the tricks from How To Talk, and they did say&nbsp;not to worry if it doesn't work every time. "I was just giving you a little reminder," I said, and left it at that, feeling like a bit of a failure.</span><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">Monkey See, Monkey Do</span></strong><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">I guess he wasn't in the best mood that day, because not long after the note incident, my son barked at me for asking a simple question. I hate to admit it, but normally I would just ignore something like that, but this time I said, "I didn't deserve that, I'm trying to be nice even though we are both tired and rushed this morning." </span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">"I know, I'm sorry," came the reply.</span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">Once we made it to the car, I barked at my son for&nbsp;no reason&nbsp;and, without hesitation, he said to me "Mom, I'm trying to be nice, I don't think I deserved that." And he was right. I apologized and we headed out of the driveway to start our day.</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><strong>Oh The Profanity!</strong></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">Last night, as I was making dinner, I heard my son swearing in the basement at whomever he was online with playing video games. The words were F-You B*tch. He was talking to a guy, not a girl, just so we're clear on that. I called him off his game and told him we had to talk about his language, but not right now. Frankly, I didn't know how to approach it at that moment and wanted to give him a chance to think about it as well. I said we'd talk about it at bed time. He was anxious, I could tell, but I stayed firm - we'll talk about it later. I recalled the problem solving exercise from the audiobook I'd been listening to in my car and decided to give it a go.</span></div><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">Later that night I grabbed a paper and pen and sat beside his bed.&nbsp;"So what was all that swearing about?" </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">He told me that the group of kids that were bugging him last week (we had to speak to the school about it, the boys made up and were playing online together again) were bugging him again. "I get so mad that I swear at them." Tears welled up in his eyes. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">"We have a problem," I told him. "Let's figure out a solution." It sounds to me like you get frustrated and angry when these boys bug or tease you online and that causes you to swear back at them. And it makes me feel shocked and embarrassed, and a little angry too, that my son uses words like that. So let's write down some possible solutions."</span></div><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">1. No more gaming (mine)</span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">2. Remove those guys from my friends list online (my son's)</span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">3. Tell those guys at school tomorrow that I got in trouble for swearing and my mom says I can't play online with them anymore, that they are a bad influence on me. Then remove them from my list tomorrow after school. (my son's)</span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">My son's solution was clever - he was able avoid them online now without any sort of stigma about it - as far as they knew, he was forbidden to play with them online. The truth was that he just&nbsp;doesn't have fun playing with them. But this way, Mom takes the blame and he saves face. And, of course, he doesn't feel the need to defend himself against them by swearing.</span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">I was so impressed with the process, I congratulated my son on his decision making and problem solving skills and decided next I was going to try this on my fiance. That night I told V that any complaints or issues would only be addressed on Sunday nights. The only language I would accept from him throughout the week&nbsp;would be a simple "I have an issue/problem/complaint, we'll talk about it on Sunday." I feel good about this. I plan to use the exact same problem solving technique I used with my son, because it's a good way to keep myself calm as well when things need to be hashed out.</span><br /><strong><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">Viscous Cycle</span></strong><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">There's a trend in my house, albeit improving, that if my finace gets up in the morning and sees that my son has forgotten to put the bean bag on the couch (the dog will sleep on it and get hair all over it otherwise), he reports back to me, annoyed, setting off my mood, knowing that I now have to give my son crap first thing in the morning, ruining the start of his day too. Not a fun situation at 7:00 AM. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">I had begun threatening to take away his Xbox if he kept forgetting. This morning it happened again. V gave me the annoyed report, I may have replied with something immature not wanting to deal with it, and then approached my son's room, knocking on the door because I knew he was getting dressed for school. "You forgot the pillow again and you'll have to vacuum up the couch before you have breakfast."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">My son, in a disappointed tone replied, "Does that mean no Xbox tonight?" </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">"You know,&nbsp;you've been doing a really good job remembering the pillow, we all forget things sometimes, you're only human. Vacuum up the couch and we'll talk about it after breakfast." </span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">D vacuumed the couch without complaint and then we discussed ways that we could help him remember. I let him come up with the ideas this time. He said, "I can double check before I leave the room." (a tactic I had suggest to him over and over again since this all began). I didn't say anything. "I can write myself a note and put it on my Xbox so it reminds me when I'm done." </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">"That's a great idea," I said.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">HE USED THE NOTE IDEA FROM THE FIRST DAY! I was doing a happy dance in my head.&nbsp;Fingers crossed that it works for him.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">Good luck out there,</span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;">JB</span><br /><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: &quot;arial&quot; , &quot;helvetica&quot; , sans-serif;"><br /></span>JustBeing AHappyBeinghttps://plus.google.com/110216159034183415738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1413349517700667667.post-50147872608059835552012-09-15T10:02:00.001-07:002012-09-18T11:04:10.906-07:00Grilled Cheese, Sort Of <div><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-MGs8XyNN2Ts/UFS0n1FlCJI/AAAAAAAAA88/ZXs9F1ocPOA/2012-09-15%25252012.35.09.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-MGs8XyNN2Ts/UFS0n1FlCJI/AAAAAAAAA88/ZXs9F1ocPOA/2012-09-15%25252012.35.09.png" width="200" /></a>I thought since it's lunch time I'd make my son a grilled cheese sandwich, the old go-to for saturday afternoons when I'm still in my pajamas. Don't judge me, well not for that anyway. When I started thinking about getting the frying pan out, I suddenly recalled a pin I'd seen where somebody made grilled cheese in their toaster. How simple and easy, thought I.<br /><br />As soon as I flipped my toaster on it's side I realized that I hadn't cleaned it in about a year as crumbs poured out of it. I turned it upside down and emptied it into the sink creating a small mountain of crumbs that clogged up my sink. I guess we like our toast.<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--Xc8OHYHD8s/UFUSlo-ZLwI/AAAAAAAAA94/WCkG-6nCUdA/s1600/2012-09-15+12_41_52.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--Xc8OHYHD8s/UFUSlo-ZLwI/AAAAAAAAA94/WCkG-6nCUdA/s200/2012-09-15+12_41_52.png" width="150" /></a>I prepped my sandwiches and tried to squeeze them into the toaster, now&nbsp;on its side, and then I had to reevaluate the situation since they were pretty snug in there. I squished them down with my hand and shoved them back into the toasterand and pulled the lever. <br /><br />Enough smoke&nbsp;billowed up from the toaster to, one more time, doubt the genius of my plan. I let it ride, since I'd gone this far. When time was up I used a fork, yes a fork, (please don't tel l my father) to get the sandwiches out.<br /><br />I slapped them on a plate and my son ate them up without a word&nbsp;about something being different about&nbsp;his cleverly fashioned meal. <br /><br />Success rating:&nbsp;8, because it worked and I emptied the fire hazard of crumbs from my toaster as a result.<br /><br />Would I do it again? Hell NO!<br /><br />Good luck out there.<br />JB<br /><br /><br /><br /></div>JustBeing AHappyBeinghttps://plus.google.com/110216159034183415738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1413349517700667667.post-43515521257587307592012-09-14T15:25:00.001-07:002015-12-09T07:50:39.678-08:00Nicky Jeanerson and Other People I Hate From Work<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WHjzC8IdS8k/UFOqLiOCspI/AAAAAAAAA7A/0o5KEIl5r5A/s1600/imagesCAYOZQ6U.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hea="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WHjzC8IdS8k/UFOqLiOCspI/AAAAAAAAA7A/0o5KEIl5r5A/s1600/imagesCAYOZQ6U.jpg" /></a></div>Sometimes I look back at the slew of bosses and coworkers I've had over the years and think, why didn't I get that person arrested, or why didn't I poison that person's coffee? I've had some truly memorable office experiences and now that I can look back and laugh, why not share them with you?<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Working titles for this article:</div><ul><li>You Just Called Me What?</li><li>No, I Don't Own&nbsp;a Tight Red Sweater</li><li>The Sunshine Girl, Seriously?</li><li>Shove That Bike Up Your Ass</li><li>Napoleon Complex Much?</li></ul><h3>The Nice Guy, The Nice Guy Perv, and The Just Plain Perv</h3><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NcqvKfUYNkM/UFOqXaENCVI/AAAAAAAAA7I/bNELQHFDVw8/s1600/imagesCAGY4MTC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NcqvKfUYNkM/UFOqXaENCVI/AAAAAAAAA7I/bNELQHFDVw8/s200/imagesCAGY4MTC.jpg" width="168" /></a></div>Because I'm a logical and rational being, as you will surely find, I will start with my first job out of College. I worked in a small welding supply office where I took&nbsp;on a maternity leave stint for a woman who wore Disney clothes almost every day while she trained me to do her job. In this particular role, I was responsible for 'balancing the books' among other administrative responsibilities. I'm sure that they are still trying to sort out the clerical mess I left behind. The office consisted of two businesses and three business men and myself. Two of the three were brothers, Clint and John. Gord was the third and only gentleman in the office. He gave me a sweet pearl necklace from he and his wife for Christmas that year, which I still have and wear, fifteen years later. Clint drove a Corvette, he was in his fifties, having an affair with an old girlfriend who lived in the US, and he had a couple of kids whom I babysat when he went to see her. Yes, I babysat for my boss. Weird right? Clint was an interesting guy, he taught me how to get in and out of a car and drink wine like a lady. He also frequented the topless massage parlour down the hall from our office and took clients there as well as a treat. Oddly, not once did Clint ever make me feel uncomfortable. His brother, on the other hand (or in his other hand), kept pictures of the Sunshine Girl cut out form the newspaper in a box outside of the bathroom, and deeply inhaled my perfume whenever he came close to me. Needless to say, I put the old Red Door to rest pretty quickly.<br /><br /><h3>The Hogger, The Frencher, and The Perky Prick</h3><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JYempmnjhbY/UFOtrTGT5BI/AAAAAAAAA74/mLtlD15IsO4/s1600/imagesCAFIAL9E.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="109" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JYempmnjhbY/UFOtrTGT5BI/AAAAAAAAA74/mLtlD15IsO4/s200/imagesCAFIAL9E.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div>After Disney girl came back, I got a job in downtown Toronto and moved there. The man who hired me at this outdoor advertising company was named Jim. He used to hog the Christmas Gift baskets, other than that, I don't recall much about him except that he really wanted to hire the woman who came in before me to interview in a tight fitting red sweater. It was a running joke between him and my future baby-daddy, the Leasing Manager. Yes, you read correct, I had a baby with my coworker. Anyway, Jim was replaced by a French man named Jacques. Everyone loved this guy, he was handsome, friendly, did I mention French? Jacques chain smoked in his office (after&nbsp;the law was passed), and after he had his vasectomy he told me over duck and wine and in front of everyone at the office, that his tongue still worked just fine. Cue the blood rushing to my cheeks in embarrassment. We were all sad to see him go about a year later. We threw him one hell of a going away party though, with a stripper and a lot of booze.&nbsp;Once we all recovered from our hangovers, we had a new boss. A perky little shit who told endlessly boring stories about his bike riding gang (not biker gang, peddling bike gang) and did ass stretches in the middle of the office area. This guy used to call me Generation Y and tell me I should be more bubbly. I hated this dude,&nbsp;so I ignored him and got involved romantically with the Leasing Manager, as I mentioned.</div><br /><h3>The Overgrown Child</h3><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oH3oKVOuzww/UFOsGWjQH8I/AAAAAAAAA7w/pEKM4FCigsY/s1600/imagesCAJ0GTO5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oH3oKVOuzww/UFOsGWjQH8I/AAAAAAAAA7w/pEKM4FCigsY/s200/imagesCAJ0GTO5.jpg" width="175" /></a></div>&nbsp;I moved to suburbia with my Leasing Manager and played around in decorating and set design before deciding that a steady paycheck was the grown up thing to have and went back to office work. I worked at another advertising company, the bosses were OK, but I was stuck working on 'the books' again and I liked them too much to bring them crashing down financially because I didn't know what the hell I was doing. I landed at a sales office, as a Sales Assistant after that. Here is where I met Nicky Jeanerson. This woman stood at least three feet taller than me and had the same build as Hulk Hogan. Being in the cut throat, male dominated sales industry had turned Nicky hard. She had bright red hair and stalked around the office with a face so full of make-up that you could literally see an orange line between her chin and neck. I asked her once not to throw her banana peel in the garbage at my desk when she had her own garbage or to&nbsp;use the garbage in the kitchen instead,&nbsp;and she called me persnickety. I had to look it up. I didn't think the definition suited me. Was there a fancy name that I could use to sum up the horrible ogre lady that she was? Scarycrazybitchickity, perhaps. Besides Nicky Jeanerson, there was another oddball person I had to put up with at this office, his name was Chad. Chad was the acting president, who during my interview asked me if I worked out and was a massive fan of The Simpsons. Chad was a creep,&nbsp;I hated getting stuck in his office after procuring his signature on a sales contract, and having to hear in detail from front to end about the Simpsons episode he watched the night before all while he glanced me up and down with his bulging bug eyes. He even looked a little bit like Homer, yick.<br /><div><br /></div><h3>Small but Crazy</h3><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oqQd4Up0nc4/UFOrOFLj84I/AAAAAAAAA7g/Ba0QEhgeZwM/s1600/untitled2.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oqQd4Up0nc4/UFOrOFLj84I/AAAAAAAAA7g/Ba0QEhgeZwM/s200/untitled2.bmp" width="200" /></a>To further advance my career I decided to take a job as an Executive Assistant. Yay! I did it! I climbed the ladder from Secretary to EA. I've arrived. The pay was so much better and, at the ripe old age of 26, maybe I'd start being respected in my work. Wrong. Oh so terribly wrong. As a matter of fact, it only got worse the more I advanced. My new boss, we'll call him Napoleon, because he was a short angry man with, well, a Napoleon complex. He once remarked that "I&nbsp;was actually capable of learning" and then quoted the line that the peasant in My Fair Lady had to learn to improve her speech "<em>The</em> <em>rain in Spain falls mainly on the plane</em>." What an asshole. He would also often announce to whomever would listen that I was like his wife, but without the sex. He thought it was hilarious, I thought it was gross. This guy swore in his management meetings, told his VPs to 'shut the fuck up' and I don't even want to know what would happen if I didn't have his coffee waiting on his desk when he arrived. He was very wealthy, having built his own business, and often took women he met at the casino, who were half his age, on expensive trips, and then call me to complain that they were too drunk to have sex with him. He used to let me use his private box at the semi-pro hockey arena and eat whatever I wanted while we were there, so that was nice I guess. One time he had me run all over the city buying up copies of a newspaper that printed an article about him, then he called me on my cell phone to yell at me for taking too long. I ended up taking sick leave because it was such a bad environment for me. Napoleon died about a year later from Cancer. I did not attend his funeral.</div><br /><h3>The Pretty Boy</h3><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tf66dEy4M08/UFOt3D527lI/AAAAAAAAA8A/WXYuSNzd1aE/s1600/imagesCA3F8EOL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" hea="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tf66dEy4M08/UFOt3D527lI/AAAAAAAAA8A/WXYuSNzd1aE/s1600/imagesCA3F8EOL.jpg" /></a></div>If you think that little men with major insecurity issues are hard to work for, try working for a pretty boy. Rob Turner once, only once, leaned on my desk while picking his teeth with a business card. "If something lands on me I'm quitting," I told him in all seriousness. Behind his back we called him Gaston, from Beauty and the Beast. Arrogance was his middle name, investing was his game. How did I end up working with money again? Lucky for everyone, the agents handled the money, I just took care of Gaston, I mean Rob. After two uncomfortable years in which he compared me constantly to his old, slim, sexy, assistant that adored him, we agreed to call it quits. He gave me time to find a new job and at my farewell party I announced that I thoroughly enjoyed working with Rob for the last two <em>weeks</em>. Mr.&nbsp;Centre&nbsp;Of The Universe didn't&nbsp;like that very much, but I&nbsp;sure&nbsp;enjoyed dissing him in front of everyone&nbsp;after he made me fetch&nbsp;his coffee and his lunch every single day,&nbsp;rain or snow, for the last two years.<br /><br /><h3>This Porridge is Just Right</h3><div>When I was interviewing for my next job, I say interviewing and not being interviewed because I was determined to choose wisely this time, I told the gentleman across from me not to bother calling me back if he wanted somebody to fetch his coffee. I let him know that 'thank you' goes a long way and that, if hired, I'd like to be judged on my performance and not my appearance. It's been over two years now that I've been working for Quan and besides being a little on the anti-social workaholic side, he's pretty good. He has never ogled me, sworn at me, called me stupid, or sent me on ridiculous errands. He doesn't give me Christmas gifts, or say Happy Birthday to me, but he's a&nbsp;religious man and that's got to count for something. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N3BE3GCW-0s/UFOuJnpOc1I/AAAAAAAAA8I/jr0Lh_TydfY/s1600/untitled4.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N3BE3GCW-0s/UFOuJnpOc1I/AAAAAAAAA8I/jr0Lh_TydfY/s200/untitled4.bmp" width="148" /></a></div><div><br /></div>You know when people tell you 'their story' which includes struggle and heartache and sacrifices, and then say they would do it all over again to get to where they are now? Well if I did have to do it all over again, people would get injured, physically, in the balls and I would have stuck with decorating.<br /><br />Have you had a terrible boss? Share your story, it might make me feel better. Thanks!<br />Good Luck Out There,<br /><br />Just Being<br /><br />JustBeing AHappyBeinghttps://plus.google.com/110216159034183415738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1413349517700667667.post-25348085105278006032012-09-03T08:12:00.003-07:002013-05-28T07:39:55.418-07:00Greenbelt Harvest Picnic 2012<div style="text-align: right;">Greenbelt Harvest Picnic 2012</div><div style="text-align: right;">Christie Conservation Area </div><div style="text-align: right;">September 1, 2012</div><div style="text-align: right;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jnTbcfnRvDk/UETIkE5IIAI/AAAAAAAAA5g/OAVqichaXMU/s1600/concert_schedule_header.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="111" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jnTbcfnRvDk/UETIkE5IIAI/AAAAAAAAA5g/OAVqichaXMU/s400/concert_schedule_header.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Victor finally got to see Daniel Lanois perform for the first time since University, and I got to sing along with Sarah Harmer as I waited for somebody to announce that it would not be cool to eat the brown acid.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">The lineup was as follows: </div><div style="text-align: center;">Missy Bauman, Dinner Belles, Lee Reed, Brady L. Blade Sr. and the Hallelujah Train, Jesse Cook, Sarah Harmer, Gord Downie and the Sadies, Mix Master Mike, Daniel Lanois, Emmylou Harris, Feist</div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CXnzbz1w7FY/UETBD3-zzkI/AAAAAAAAA3w/X1NLkMikuro/s1600/imagesCAC2TOMH.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CXnzbz1w7FY/UETBD3-zzkI/AAAAAAAAA3w/X1NLkMikuro/s1600/imagesCAC2TOMH.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CXnzbz1w7FY/UETBD3-zzkI/AAAAAAAAA3w/X1NLkMikuro/s1600/imagesCAC2TOMH.jpg" /></a>We arrived at around one in the afternoon,&nbsp;due to the fact that I forgot our tickets when we first ventured out of the house that beautiful summer morning. Luckily, <strong>Christie Lake</strong> is only about an hour from where we live so we were still early enough to secure some decent real estate on the grass with a great view of the stage. Once we were settled with our picnic blanket, chairs, and cooler full of healthy-ish snacks, we went exploring (looking for beer). <br /><br />We warmly referred to the many vendors we encountered as <strong>'the hippies'</strong> selling home grown everything -&nbsp;from sunflower accessories to flavoured hemp seed snacks. The atmosphere at the park that day&nbsp;was peace, love, and save the environment -&nbsp;specifically the <strong>Niagara Escarpment</strong>. <br /><br />We met a young lady selling natural remedies and teas which she told me she foraged herself. I had to make her repeat herself, as I had never heard anybody say they had <em><strong>foraged</strong> </em>anything, before. I was starting to feel like I was in the movie&nbsp;"<strong>Wonderlust</strong>". I was particularly surprised and impressed when a very pretty lady raised her arm, while telling us how tall the trees she was selling (native to the area and now endangered) would grow, because I caught a sight that I thought only existed in France -&nbsp;she had unshaven armpits! I'm not talking stubble either, I'm talking as hairy as <em>Victors</em> underarms hairy. I found myself in awe of that woman-&nbsp;she's the real deal. <br /><br />The entire day had me wondering what a 'hippie' lifestyle must be like, it was exhausting to even imagine how hard it would be to make my own clothes and food and forage for....stuff. I could stop shaving my armpits, maybe, but I think that's not enough to say I live a <strong>carbon footprint-free lifestyle</strong>. Buying one of those pretty flower halo hairpieces that some of the girls were going around with&nbsp;wasn't going to make me feel any better about it either, so I signed a petition to help save the escarpment from a landfill (I think), shoved a few hemp seeds in my gob and moved on to the food trucks. Gorilla Cheese, by the way, has the most gewy and delicious grilled cheese sandwiches in the history of grilled cheese sandwiches.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />We sat down in time to see <strong>Brady L. Blade Sr</strong>., a preacher from the deep south of the US take the stage. Incidentally, he is also&nbsp;the father of Danel Lanois' drummer, that fact provided by Victor in a side note between sips of <strong>Steam Whistle</strong> beer, the festival sponsor this year. Rev. Blade and his band, along with Daniel Lanois, played some knee slapping soul that almost had me reaching my hands up to heavens like&nbsp;those people you see on TV. </div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GJ0C0TpPaAc/UETDm3xG2wI/AAAAAAAAA4g/zET6aO-Djlo/s1600/imagesCAXN31D6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GJ0C0TpPaAc/UETDm3xG2wI/AAAAAAAAA4g/zET6aO-Djlo/s1600/imagesCAXN31D6.jpg" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GJ0C0TpPaAc/UETDm3xG2wI/AAAAAAAAA4g/zET6aO-Djlo/s1600/imagesCAXN31D6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">&nbsp;</a><strong>Jesse Cooke</strong> was up next, looking overdressed for the picnic, laying down some seriously sexy Latin guitar tunes. It was so different from what we had just heard and a perfect interlude before <strong>Sarah Harmer</strong> came on. But wait! To my surprise and delight, Whitehorse came on stage after Jesse Cook, to introduce Sarah. <strong>Whitehorse</strong> is a husband and wife duo featuring one of my favourite CBC Radio2 artists, Luke Doucet. I waited the rest of the night hoping they would sing us a song, but they didn't take the stage again. Sarah did not disappoint, however, and&nbsp;Victor, who had not heard of her before, was impressed and enjoyed her set almost as much as I did. </div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fQSKoSkJHfk/UETEGhmk7wI/AAAAAAAAA4o/jaZKhU1NJKo/s1600/imagesCA7382CW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fQSKoSkJHfk/UETEGhmk7wI/AAAAAAAAA4o/jaZKhU1NJKo/s1600/imagesCA7382CW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fQSKoSkJHfk/UETEGhmk7wI/AAAAAAAAA4o/jaZKhU1NJKo/s1600/imagesCA7382CW.jpg" /></a>After Sarah, the funky, funky, <strong>Gord Downey</strong> took the stage spouting incoherent poetry and kicking music's ass with his new band, <strong>The Saddies</strong>. Gordo looked pretty sexy too in his grey suit, tie, and fedora. The man is a legend.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><strong>Mix Master Mike</strong>, half of the infamous <strong>Beastie Boys</strong>, got everyone out their seats during his set. I mean the crowd really went crazy, putting their hands up in the air,&nbsp;putting their HANDS UP IN THE AIR,&nbsp;as instructed by the Mix Master on stage. Again, a perfect interlude before we all chilled out to a great set from the man himself, <strong>Mr. Daniel Lanois</strong>, perfectly timed as the sun went down and Miss <strong>Emmylou Harris</strong> joined him on stage.<br />&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">The temperature dropped as we donned our sweaters,wrapped ourselves in blankets, and waited while the stage was completely reset for <strong>Feist</strong>. Then we waited some more as the air got colder, apparently it was going to be quite the production. Victor wanted to leave, but I wanted to see Feist. I have a bunch of her songs on my play list and I couldn't wait to see her live. She was quirky and cool as expected, and it was cute to see a tiny thing like her, in a little white dress, rocking out on an electric guitar. <br /><div style="text-align: left;"></div></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M0QARqEcVLM/UETHjq97vlI/AAAAAAAAA5Y/EAe79IRuBoE/s1600/daniel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M0QARqEcVLM/UETHjq97vlI/AAAAAAAAA5Y/EAe79IRuBoE/s1600/daniel.jpg" /></a>Overall, it was a laid back and enjoyable experience. We will very likely be returning next year, and I can see it becoming a tradition for us. Thank you Daniel Lanois for being one <strong>very cool Canadian</strong> bringing a lot of extraordinary artists and people together for a great cause. You are the man.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">Good luck out there,</div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><span style="font-size: 14pt;"></span>JB&nbsp; </div><h3 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"></span>&nbsp;</h3>JustBeing AHappyBeinghttps://plus.google.com/110216159034183415738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1413349517700667667.post-40897936725147345682012-08-31T09:21:00.002-07:002012-10-17T12:06:39.160-07:00What I Will Teach My Son This Year<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UUJYjeTi82k/UES6ZCK-Q5I/AAAAAAAAA3A/hAuhbYJK15w/s1600/imagesCAUQAX9B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UUJYjeTi82k/UES6ZCK-Q5I/AAAAAAAAA3A/hAuhbYJK15w/s1600/imagesCAUQAX9B.jpg" /></a></div><br /><h2 class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Life Lessons From An Overgrown Child/Mother</h2><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My little man turned 12 this year, he's eating me out of house and home and will be towering over me in no time. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Starting now, I plan to include my son in as many meal making moments as possible. The question here is, why am I only thinking of this now? I feel silly for serving him as much as I do just because it's faster and easier. These are life skills he needs to learn! I'm not the best cook in the world, but if I can teach him just the basics, I'll have done my job.</span></div><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">I've never been one to blame my parents for things, but if my mother or father took some time to teach me how to cook anything other than boiled potatoes, maybe I'd be a little more confident in the kitchen. I didn't learn to use a BBQ until just last year, and I've never mowed a lawn in my life because nobody ever showed me how. That last one, I'm a little bit proud of, truth be known. I moved out of my parents home at the age of 18 without very many life skills. I ate popcorn for dinner most nights until I got a roommate who could cook, and wore a lot of wrinkled clothes because I didn't know how (or want to learn) to use an iron. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My inspiration for teaching my son a whole bunch of stuff this year comes from the </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Busy Kids = Happy Mom</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">&nbsp;article on <a href="http://www.busykidshappymom.org/p/life-skills.html" target="_blank">Life Skills</a> - I went through the list and picked out the items that I haven't taught him yet and should have, and the things I never thought of, but should have. I've categorized them into bigger Life Lessons and will tackle them as opportunities arise. So here we go.</span><br /><br /><a name='more'></a><h2>﻿﻿ Eat to Live</h2><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">So far he has attempted KD a few times with supervision, and he makes his own PB and Banana sandwiches, toast, cereal, etc. But it's time to kick it up a notch so he has more options when he gets hungry and I'm out at the store, or napping, or pinning, or otherwise engaged.</span><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EN8tjE6sof4/UEDhJDCZBNI/AAAAAAAAA2I/01rhmluSNX8/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" fea="true" height="149" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EN8tjE6sof4/UEDhJDCZBNI/AAAAAAAAA2I/01rhmluSNX8/s200/images.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Son...Someday</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">When&nbsp;we watch Diners, Drive-ins, &amp; Dives on the Food Network, my son goes crazy over some of the things they come up with - I think we should start trying to recreate them in our kitchen. I have a feeling I'll be gaining some weight this winter.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; mso-list: l5 level1 lfo6; tab-stops: list .25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong>Things to learn how to make this year:</strong></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Boil eggs </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Grilled Cheese</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">BBQ Hamburgers </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pack own&nbsp;lunch<o:p></o:p></span></div></div><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>Aug 30</em></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Last night my son BBQ'd hamburgers with cheese, with my supervision,&nbsp;and then we made </span><a href="http://lacreativitedelafille.blogspot.ca/2012/06/single-serving-deep-dish-chocolate-chip.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">single serving chocolate chip cookies</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">&nbsp;for dessert, including one for his Step Dad, which my son presented to him while wearing oven mitts. You know what he said to me when we dug into our microwaved dessert? "I have the best and most fun mom in the world." Well worth the effort. We watched a few episodes of River Monsters together after that, and he didn't mention his X-box even once from the time he lit that BBQ.</span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dwcDVayB-K8/UEYKkw54vvI/AAAAAAAAA6Q/N7gb2qvJYNU/s1600/ff.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dwcDVayB-K8/UEYKkw54vvI/AAAAAAAAA6Q/N7gb2qvJYNU/s200/ff.bmp" width="149" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em>Sept 3rd</em></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We just finished making </span><a href="http://www.fashionmeetsfood.com/2011/11/skinny-funfetti-cupcakes.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">funfetti cucakes.</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> They turned out great even though we used regular diet 7Up, as I don't think we get Cherry 7Up in Canada. I will never buy icing again after using this recipe. Anyway, I didn't let him stick me with making the cupcakes all by myself once he got bored with the process. I made him do almost everything except icing the cupcakes, because I got carried away and forgot to include him in that. Anyway, the best part is that they are low fat and turned out great.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sept 15th - I made lasgana today. My son didn't help me, I'm just proud of myself - first time! (Don't judge.)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">Oct 16th - Chef D-Man, as he likes to be called, whipped up some crunchy coated pork chops for dinner tonight. He mixed bread crumbs with just about every spice in our cupboard, along with parmesean cheese, dipped the chops in milk, then the crumb mixture, and fried those babies up. His only complain was that I should have taken out more chops for him to make!</span><br /><br /><br /><h2>Hygiene</h2><span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong>Things to focus on this year: </strong></span><span style="font-family: Arial;">Zits and Pits!</span><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cMrA8UMSMg8/UEDfKEHbRxI/AAAAAAAAA14/RDqbElzYagk/s1600/imagesCAJ74LGK.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" fea="true" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cMrA8UMSMg8/UEDfKEHbRxI/AAAAAAAAA14/RDqbElzYagk/s200/imagesCAJ74LGK.jpg" width="130" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial;">My friends never liked the fact that I went through puberty, and basically my whole life, without having to deal with zits. I get maybe one a month, you know, around <em>that</em> time. My son, on the other hand, seems to have inherited his father's oily skin and is getting nose pimples. I purchased cleansing pads which he uses before bed, only if I remind him, but I think it's time to kick up the showering routing to daily to make sure he is washing his face at least once a day. Maybe he'd like to shower in the morning? I doubt it, but I'll ask him. </span><span style="font-family: Arial;">If he starts showering in the mornings he'll totally be in my way, but he's got this sort of Afro that will mean he will have to start showering in the morning eventually once he starts caring more about his appearance.&nbsp;When he wakes up in the morning his head is all flat on one side and puffy on the other. I think it's adorable, but not socially acceptable for much longer.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family: Arial;">And then there's the pit-stick that he never remembers to put on. I've gone as far as putting a reminder by his door so he'll see it before he leaves his room in the morning. I hate to keep having to remind him about these sort of things, but what are my options? I've mentioned that girls don't like smelly boys, maybe that will help to encourage him to wear deodorant. I am open to advice in this department.</span></div><br /><br /><h2>Household</h2><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oHX1iVLNRrA/UEDfG0Ulr1I/AAAAAAAAA1o/pmTgWEmMWYA/s1600/untitled111.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" fea="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oHX1iVLNRrA/UEDfG0Ulr1I/AAAAAAAAA1o/pmTgWEmMWYA/s1600/untitled111.bmp" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial;">I've had D-Man, as he likes to be called, help me with laundry in the past. A little loading, a little folding, and I stopped putting his clothes away for him in his dresser as well. My thought is to get him to a point where he can do his own laundry beginning to end. This will take some practic and coaxing, but I refuse to send him out into the world (like my mother did to me) not knowing how to wash your clothes without ruining them.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sept 15th - D-Man did his laundry today. He took it from his room to the basement and only asked me to confirm that the settings on the machine were correct. He washed, dried, folded, and put&nbsp;away&nbsp;his laundry all by himself. I feel like the best mother in the world today!</span></div><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;"><div><span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong>Things to get used to this year:</strong></span></div></span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: left;"></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Doing your own laundry</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; tab-stops: list .25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Empty wastebaskets </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; - practice tying bags (my little lefty has trouble with this)</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; tab-stops: list .25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Clean toilet</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; tab-stops: list .25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;- just to show him what happens when he misses</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; mso-list: l10 level1 lfo4; tab-stops: list .25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Clean mirrors </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; mso-list: l10 level1 lfo4; tab-stops: list .25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; - same reason as toilet but tooth paste splatters, rather than pee</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; mso-list: l7 level1 lfo5; tab-stops: list .25in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; mso-list: l7 level1 lfo5; tab-stops: list .25in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></div><h2 class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; mso-list: l5 level1 lfo6; tab-stops: list .25in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.25in;">Guy Stuff&nbsp;</h2><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; mso-list: l5 level1 lfo6; tab-stops: list .25in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.25in;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5fVH4F45x9M/UEDfDjcaYWI/AAAAAAAAA1Y/c2vs9FEkwrI/s1600/imagesCA0W2GM7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" fea="true" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5fVH4F45x9M/UEDfDjcaYWI/AAAAAAAAA1Y/c2vs9FEkwrI/s200/imagesCA0W2GM7.jpg" width="145" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><strong>Not Gonna Happen</strong></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">So I mentioned that I have no idea how to use a lawn mower right? This should be interesting. When I mentioned a few years ago to my fiancé that he should teach D how to use the lawn mower, he said something about getting his toes cut off - naturally, I dropped the subject. But now that he's older, I think that we need to give this another look. Maybe I'll even observe and learn a thing or two, but probably best that I don't. One, to give them guy space, and two, because I don't ever want to have to mow the lawn once I know how. It really doesn't appeal to me. </span></span></span><br /><div style="margin-left: 18.75pt;"><br /></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">I think I have to lean on my Ex and my Fiance to teach my son most of the these guy things, it's good bonding time too, and therefore a win-win. I will certainly attempt&nbsp;to teach&nbsp;a few of the guy things to him because I want him to think back one day at how cool his mom was, and that tasks don't have to be gender specific.</span></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; mso-list: l5 level1 lfo6; tab-stops: list .25in; text-align: left; text-indent: -0.25in;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QgQr8puFJtc/UEDfLrwCnOI/AAAAAAAAA2A/BfZ_V2Gh-Mo/s1600/untitled.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" fea="true" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QgQr8puFJtc/UEDfLrwCnOI/AAAAAAAAA2A/BfZ_V2Gh-Mo/s200/untitled.bmp" width="199" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div><b><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">Stuff to learn this year:</span></b><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-left: 18.75pt;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">Mow lawn<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-left: 18.75pt;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">Know how to handle a pocket knife <o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-left: 18.75pt;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">Replace fuse; know where circuit breakers are (are those two things related?)</span></div><div style="margin-left: 18.75pt;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">Check and fill all car fluids<o:p></o:p></span></div><div></div><div class="WordSection4"><div class="MsoNormal">﻿﻿ <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Good Luck to me this time!<br /><br />JB</div></div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>JustBeing AHappyBeinghttps://plus.google.com/110216159034183415738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1413349517700667667.post-26259646064276999382012-08-24T18:08:00.001-07:002014-06-25T07:02:35.791-07:00The Decorator Chop!<div><span style="font-size: large;">Pillows look great when they are all fluffed up and look even better once you give them a Decorator Chop! Now arranging your pillows can also double as a therapy session! So go let off some steam and make your home beautiful in the process!</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;">﻿</span><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7SPbKOxwXfM/UDhKbrTiwjI/AAAAAAAAAzc/x1JK_zbK0M8/s1600/1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7SPbKOxwXfM/UDhKbrTiwjI/AAAAAAAAAzc/x1JK_zbK0M8/s1600/1.png" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Start with a fluffy pillow. If it's too firm this won't work.</span><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sLMWxbSDRbE/UDhKeypbDwI/AAAAAAAAAzs/Z2yYvqWRqSU/s1600/3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sLMWxbSDRbE/UDhKeypbDwI/AAAAAAAAAzs/Z2yYvqWRqSU/s1600/3.png" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Next, prepare your chopping arm!</span><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-I85hxf667TA/UDhKdr5uL5I/AAAAAAAAAzk/7Ow2tCRIeyk/s1600/2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-I85hxf667TA/UDhKdr5uL5I/AAAAAAAAAzk/7Ow2tCRIeyk/s1600/2.png" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Remember to make a loud "Hi-Ya!" sound as you chop.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ddwo552NRwA/UDhKgmJHVII/AAAAAAAAAz0/82zjlnYJp34/s1600/4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ddwo552NRwA/UDhKgmJHVII/AAAAAAAAAz0/82zjlnYJp34/s1600/4.png" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;">And there you have your Decorator Chopped Pillow. It lets people who come into your home know that you decorate down to the smallest detail, and also not to mess with you.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">I was feeling a little stressed about my dinner party tonight, so.....</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XeeWAddVNJQ/UDjvs8yvHMI/AAAAAAAAA0k/tj1FDGVbVa0/s1600/2012-08-25+09.30.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XeeWAddVNJQ/UDjvs8yvHMI/AAAAAAAAA0k/tj1FDGVbVa0/s320/2012-08-25+09.30.06.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">Good luck out there,</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Just Being</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div>JustBeing AHappyBeinghttps://plus.google.com/110216159034183415738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1413349517700667667.post-40580508963570596152012-08-23T12:56:00.000-07:002012-09-04T13:13:49.060-07:00Hope in the City<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BnPWBlE3jTM/T-4FAx3z0hI/AAAAAAAAAU0/c5xJB09bnNE/s1600/untitled45.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BnPWBlE3jTM/T-4FAx3z0hI/AAAAAAAAAU0/c5xJB09bnNE/s1600/untitled45.bmp" vca="true" /></a></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Hope and the City</span></div><div style="text-align: right;">August 22, 2012</div><div style="text-align: right;">IVY Bar &amp; Kitchen</div><br /><div style="margin-left: 18.75pt;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Back in June, I received an invitation to the <b>Halton Region's 3rd Annual Hope and the City</b> event via email from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Balance My Life</i>, an online Oakville based magazine to which I subscribe. My goal in this, my 35<sup>th</sup> year, is to better know the women in my community, so I immediately purchased two tickets to this event sponsored by the <b>Canadian Cancer Society</b> in support of </span><b><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">women’s cancer research (breast, ovarian, cervical, uterine, vulvar cancers)</span></b><span lang="EN-CA" style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">.<br /><br />My fabulous friend and I arrived by limo,&nbsp;actually, we arrived by my little orange KIA, but we felt very glamorous because we were dressed to the nines as our invitation requested. While making our way from the adjacent parking lot to the Ivy Bar &amp; Kitchen, which generously donated their facility for the evening,&nbsp;in Burlington, Ontario, my friend had a less than fabulous wipe out in her brand new heels. We&nbsp;made our way to the entrance as her knee dripped with blood, dropped our tickets into the grand prize draw, and made our way into the foyer amongst 550 beautiful women, fascinators and heels. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-left: 18.75pt;"><br /></div><div style="margin-left: 18.75pt;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">The Ivy Bar and Kitchen is a massive and modern venue tastefully decorated in at least&nbsp; Fifty Shades of Gray (seriously!) with elegant sofa'd seating areas throughout and a patio boasting two full bars. Sweet Potato Fries and Sliders were being handed out as we made our way through this&nbsp;uber-femenine, 'girls only',&nbsp;event. A lovely waitress, among a few others, noticed my friends unfortunate looking knee and took us to the back of the kitchen where the manager doted over her as I eyeballed a very large brick of chocolate on one of the counter tops, assuming it was used for the chocolate dipping station we had passed on our way to the kitchen. The manager cleaned up her knee, put a bandage on it, and had the bartender make us a couple of drinks. One of the waitresses even snuck some fries into the back for us. The staff at Ivy are the most pleasant I’ve ever come across. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-left: 18.75pt;"><br /></div><div style="margin-left: 18.75pt;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">With bandaged knee, and drinks in hand, we wondered back into the party as the DJ picked up the tempo and the fashion show began. We were later instructed to find one of the firemen wearing pink shirts to buy some raffle tickets, which we happily obliged to do. We then browsed the jewellery and other eye candy that was for sale around the perimeter of the bar, watched an awesome belly-dancing show, and passed by the chocolate dipping station more than once as we observed other women getting their hair and makeup done, before checking out the hand and back massage area. You could say it was like every woman’s Favourite Things List all under one roof.</span><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-left: 18.75pt;"><br /></div><div style="margin-left: 18.75pt;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">It was an atmosphere of sisterhood as a very brave young lady named Shannon Pethick, took to the stage and shared her cervical cancer survival story. She spoke of the importance of early detection and getting yourself checked annually. She was only a year younger than me and she had been through so much. I wanted to rush the stage and hug her.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-left: 18.75pt;"><br /></div><div style="margin-left: 18.75pt;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">Near the end of the night we did a little bit of digging for diamonds, this was a very unique way to raise money. For ten dollars, you were able to pick a ‘diamond’ from a nicely decorated container and win the corresponding prize based on the colour of the gem that you pulled out. What fun! We played a few times and I took home some lovely bracelets for my step-daughters. There was also a balloon popping game and a silent auction available with all of the $40,000 plus from the evening going to support the Canadian Cancer Society research for women's cancers - breast, ovarian, uterine, and cervical.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-left: 18.75pt;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';">With smiling faces and full bellies, we collected our swag bags on our way back out into t</span><span lang="EN-CA" style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">he warm summer night and headed home.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-left: 18.75pt;"><br /></div><div style="margin-left: 18.75pt;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">For more information about Hope and the City visit their facebook page: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/HopeAndTheCity">https://www.facebook.com/HopeAndTheCity</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-left: 18.75pt;"><br /></div><div style="margin-left: 18.75pt;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Hope to see you there next year!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-left: 18.75pt;"><br /></div><div style="margin-left: 18.75pt;"><span lang="EN-CA" style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Sylvia Wells</span><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif';"><o:p></o:p></span></div><br /></div>JustBeing AHappyBeinghttps://plus.google.com/110216159034183415738noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1413349517700667667.post-6402085744784675492012-07-27T11:28:00.000-07:002013-07-12T21:13:12.419-07:00Happiness Boosters<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-v2GO1SnVMhc/UBLdciTCRBI/AAAAAAAAAqU/RLlczvGIplg/s1600/imagesCAI9B1GO.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" sda="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-v2GO1SnVMhc/UBLdciTCRBI/AAAAAAAAAqU/RLlczvGIplg/s200/imagesCAI9B1GO.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Last night I ran down the street with my dog. She had her end of the leash in her mouth, her tail a-waggin. As we ran from our house to the corner, I had a big rediculous smile on my face as I giggled and ran to keep up with her. I used to do that with my childhood dog, and for a few minutes last night I was a kid again. I didn't care what the neighbours thought, I was having a rough day and I just wanted to laugh - at myself - and so I did. <br /><br />JustBeing AHappyBeinghttps://plus.google.com/110216159034183415738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1413349517700667667.post-11555494628546887432012-07-24T11:34:00.000-07:002015-05-04T15:10:07.124-07:00Blended Families - Add Kids and Stir<div style="border: currentColor;"><div style="border: currentColor;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YHR1DEDDnw8/UA6lq_MC2OI/AAAAAAAAAns/U45x2sU1FFI/s1600/imagesCAFJ89CM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: right; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="163" sda="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YHR1DEDDnw8/UA6lq_MC2OI/AAAAAAAAAns/U45x2sU1FFI/s200/imagesCAFJ89CM.jpg" width="200" /></a>The <strong>TRUTH</strong> About Blended Families</div></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><br /></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><div style="border: currentColor;">Here's my situation: I have a son and two step-daughters. My boyfriend and I recently got engaged after seven years together and five very hard years of living together as a blended family. Oh, were you expecting me to say blissful years, like I'm living in some sort of freaking fairy tale? Well, even fairy tale blended families have their share of&nbsp;poisonous apples being flung around, and&nbsp;ours&nbsp;was no different.&nbsp;<strong>I'm here to tell you there is hope and how to cope. </strong></div></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><br /></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><div style="border: currentColor;"><div style="border: currentColor;"><strong><em>Ah, L'amour</em></strong></div></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><div style="border: currentColor;"><div style="border: currentColor;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hmSnIPxw7aI/UA6l2L8QhvI/AAAAAAAAAoc/IlZF0SHTRI8/s1600/images1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="121" sda="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hmSnIPxw7aI/UA6l2L8QhvI/AAAAAAAAAoc/IlZF0SHTRI8/s200/images1.jpg" width="200" /></a>So you&nbsp;fell in love&nbsp;with this great guy who happened to have a couple of kids. Isn't that nice? Now you get to have more kids without getting fat again, good for you! After a few months together things start to get serious and you introduce each other to <em>the kids, </em>a&nbsp;little awkward at first, but everyone survives. You start planning picnics together, trips to the zoo, amusement parks, and even weekends away. <em>This is fantastic, </em>you both agree. Your relationship is clicking along nicely now and one day you ask the question: <em>Wouldn't it make more sense if we all just lived together? Then we could be together more often! </em>How terribly exciting that idea is to you! You start having sleepovers with kids at your place to see how it goes and to get everyone used to the new plan, and doesn't it go just swimmingly! Now you're off to the races looking for a house to share with your new, amazingly wonderful family. Congratulations to you! You are about to embark on quite a little adventure that will have you begging for death (of others, and your own), stuffing yours ears full of cotton to block out those&nbsp;loud kids of his, and stuffing your face with chocolate to drown your sorrow because when his kids are there, you are sent to another worldly&nbsp;plane where anybody that isn't blood related doesn't exist. It's going to be great! Right!? NOT.</div></div></div></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><br /></div><div style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lm1U-Nv8fHU/UA6luMb9BvI/AAAAAAAAAn8/SvjtZckkHYU/s1600/imagesCAIPQSHN.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: right; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" sda="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lm1U-Nv8fHU/UA6luMb9BvI/AAAAAAAAAn8/SvjtZckkHYU/s200/imagesCAIPQSHN.jpg" width="199" /></a><strong>You're Screwed</strong></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><div style="border: currentColor;"><div style="border: currentColor;">Sorry for the tough love, but somebody's got to do it. I looked up blended families on Google&nbsp;to find some photos for this blog and I was horrified to see picture after picture of blended families looking happy and relaxed like they didn't just spend the weekend slamming doors, yelling at each other, and looking for excuses to get out of the house. WTF? Come on people! There is no way that I'm the only one who's had it rough. There is a reason why relationship therapists have a whole new schooling specifically greared toward&nbsp;blended families. IT'S TOUGH. Really tough. You don't know yourself or your partner until you've been subjected to the kind of stress and roller coaster of emotions that living together as a blended family brings.</div></div></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><br /></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><br /><div style="border: currentColor;"><strong>Spawns of Satan? Nope, Spawns of You!</strong></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><div style="border: currentColor;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oduvW0fvuVc/UA7iPv9qZEI/AAAAAAAAAo0/fvrdlP7RSS0/s1600/images2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="131" sda="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oduvW0fvuVc/UA7iPv9qZEI/AAAAAAAAAo0/fvrdlP7RSS0/s200/images2.jpg" width="200" /></a>And then there are the kids. As soon as you move in together you realize that you've both created a lot of traditions with your own kids that your partner won't understand. You have completely opposite ways of parenting, and you think the other parent is doing it ALL WRONG,&nbsp;and that is putting it lightly. So you fight and fight and fight and fight some more over, well, everything. All arguments start with a comment about one of the kids, the parent of said child is offended, insulted, and utterly dismayed that you would accuse their child of not cleaning up after themselves, not washing their hands after going to the bathroom, talking too loudly, playing too many video games, watching too much television, yelling, chewing loudly, holding their fork improperly, not feeding the dog, feeding the dog too much, eating too much, not eating enough, and/or breathing too loudly. Looking back and listing it sure puts things into perspective. We are talking piercing a parents heart with such remarks, and what happens when somebody strikes us - we strike back harder. Every fight starts with something small and soon you are listing each others shortcomings as parents and human beings and quickly move on to listing the critical faults of each others children while simultaneously accusing each other of being complete hypocrites. Good times I tell ya, good old times. And here's the WORST PART - The kids usually hear every word, because you are so caught up in blaming each other for screwing up your kids, that you are creating a whole new set of problems - you should be ashamed of yourself, and you will be.</div></div></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><br /></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PKm2RnIwMxQ/UA6l34pWnKI/AAAAAAAAAok/n_0_nvrQ-N4/s1600/untitled.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="142" sda="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PKm2RnIwMxQ/UA6l34pWnKI/AAAAAAAAAok/n_0_nvrQ-N4/s200/untitled.bmp" width="200" /></a>So how, out of this disaster of a situation, did we survive five years and decide that we were so stinking happy that we should embark on a another new adventure together by getting married? Mind boggling, I know. <strong>Let me&nbsp;share with you how&nbsp;we finally learned to cope with the stress&nbsp;of living together as a blended family.</strong></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><br /></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><br /></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><strong>Give Me Shelter ( And Lots of Space)</strong></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><div style="border: currentColor;">First of all, living&nbsp;with anyone is not easy,&nbsp;especially&nbsp;once you've reached a certain age and are pretty set in your ways.&nbsp;You need&nbsp;a healthy foundation for respecting your newly shared space and instruct your children to do the same. A good habit to do and teach is to always look back at a room before leaving it to see if you've left something behind that should be put away or cleaned up. Good in theory, of course.<br /><strong>My Advice: </strong>I hired a cleaner. I'm no longer alone in my battle to keep the house clean, it has taken a lot of the stress off, I cannot stress enough how much stress this has saved me!</div></div><div style="border: currentColor;"></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><div style="border: currentColor;"><strong>Men Are From the Planet of Selective Hearing</strong></div></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><div style="border: currentColor;"><div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MTeOGGxniqk/UA7oOfD2zgI/AAAAAAAAApM/Vn3ryBRi_g0/s1600/imagesCAP2FR31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="139" sda="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MTeOGGxniqk/UA7oOfD2zgI/AAAAAAAAApM/Vn3ryBRi_g0/s200/imagesCAP2FR31.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border: currentColor;">As a woman there are a lot of things that drive us crazy about the way men seem to want to live. Classic issues will arise about splitting chores and general tidiness. I can't stand having dirty dishes in the sink when there is a&nbsp;dish washer within inches of it. It's screams laziness and drives me batty. I was able to train the children to put their dishes in the dish washer, but my hubby is untrainable in this department. It's just one of those things that you have to throw your hands up and get over. The hardest part is that he completely disregards my reasoning that it sets a good example for the kids. It's an ongoing battle that I lost years ago. </div></div><strong>My Advice: </strong>I put his dishes in the dishwasher myself because a tidy&nbsp;sink is clearly important to me and not to him. It saves me the anguish of nagging him about it and honestly takes me less than five minutes to do. I hate him less when I'm not looking at his dirty dishes in the sink. Sometimes you have to admit that the things that drive you crazy are your own issue and you have to deal with it yourself to stay sane. </div><div style="border: currentColor;"><br /></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><div style="border: currentColor;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WeOdaiPgy_Y/UA7oi8r-MDI/AAAAAAAAApU/lKN_PRvW414/s1600/imagesCAXRR1E3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: right; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" sda="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WeOdaiPgy_Y/UA7oi8r-MDI/AAAAAAAAApU/lKN_PRvW414/s200/imagesCAXRR1E3.jpg" width="181" /></a><strong>Pick Your Battles, Win Your Wars</strong></div></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><div style="border: currentColor;">Instead of fighting over every little thing, sit down and talk about it. Sounds easy enough right? Good luck finding the time when you are both so exhausted or sick of each other that any free time is spent avoiding the other person. However, once you do sit down and go over your lists of things that drive you to drink, you'll both realize they are all small and inconsequential and, yes, even petty. You'll be embarrassed to say half of them out loud. This is where you choose the ones that are most important to you, discuss, resolve, and make house rules (and stick to them). Become a united front once the rules are drafted and delivered to the kids. This whole process will bring you closer together as a couple and as parents.</div></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><strong>My Advice: </strong>When the kids are gone, we make a nice dinner together and use that relaxed time to get the issues out of the way before moving onto 'desert', wink wink, nudge nudge.</div><div style="border: currentColor;"><br /></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><strong>Time is on Our Side</strong></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><div style="border: currentColor;"><div style="border: currentColor;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XT9U4rkL4W4/UA7pF_uo0lI/AAAAAAAAApc/gW8ZlaB0ipw/s1600/untitled4.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" sda="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XT9U4rkL4W4/UA7pF_uo0lI/AAAAAAAAApc/gW8ZlaB0ipw/s200/untitled4.bmp" width="133" /></a>You will not survive as a couple unless you do the following: coordinate your weekends with and without the kids. You need time to reconnect, relax, and remember the person you fell in love with - sans kids. Don't feel guilty about it, this is the person you chose to be with, sometimes you just need to be reminded as to why.&nbsp;Each weekend that you go out for dinner, see a&nbsp;movie, go for walks, and cuddle on the couch will allow you both forgiveness for all the crap you put each other through the previous week while under&nbsp;the stress of getting the kids to and from school and sports, and getting everyone fed, homeworked, and to bed. It will also give you the strength to face the week ahead, together.</div></div><strong>My Advice: </strong>Do things for each other. The first one up makes the coffee and breakfast. Don't stress the To Do List on your weekends alone. Focus on each other, the repairs can wait. My friends know that I don't like to make plans with them when it's my weekend without the kids, it's an unspoken rule with the hubby as well&nbsp;- that it is our sacred time to reconnect. Our relationship comes first. Also, we take naps together on the couch Saturday afternoons, it's heavenly.<br /><br /><div style="border: currentColor;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-feSXaBR-3l0/UA7pfyUYJ4I/AAAAAAAAApk/xPA3W7ikbQs/s1600/untitled.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: right; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="181" sda="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-feSXaBR-3l0/UA7pfyUYJ4I/AAAAAAAAApk/xPA3W7ikbQs/s200/untitled.bmp" width="200" /></a><strong>The Ex Factor</strong></div><div style="border: currentColor;">Just don't go there. You will need to communicate with your ex almost daily as will your partner - because you have kids with that person. Wrap jealousy in a burlap sack, tie it to a brick, and throw it in the river - it is the last thing you need right now! They are your exes for a reason, remember that. </div><div style="border: currentColor;"><strong>My Advice: </strong>No matter how crazy or unreliable either exes are, do not make statements about them in front of their kids. Haven't you done enough damage by constantly fighting with each other? Don't drag the exes into your household scraps as well. </div></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><br /><strong>The Little Angels</strong><br /><div style="border: currentColor;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Aknon7qZGZg/UA7pzIbICZI/AAAAAAAAAps/TSMp0fi0hns/s1600/imagesCA6OOJKN.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="142" sda="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Aknon7qZGZg/UA7pzIbICZI/AAAAAAAAAps/TSMp0fi0hns/s200/imagesCA6OOJKN.jpg" width="200" /></a>Don't forget that even though they may drive you bat shit crazy some days, they are still just kids. They have been through a traumatic experience with their parents divorce. They are hurt, confused, frustrated, and need attention. Give it to them. This is usually ends up being the woman's department - love all of the little buggers as much as you can. Hug them if they'll let you, spend time connecting with them and letting them know that you have their back. Talk to them. Don't be afraid to admit that you are wrong to fight as parents and that you are working on making things better. Keep in mind what they have gone through and what they are currently going through. Consider how your relationship will effect their relationships when they get older. Set a good example, feel guilty when you fight, and let them know you care. </div><strong>My Advice</strong>: Apologize. If you say something out of anger or lack of a filter in front of the kids, apologize to your partner and to the kids for your behaviour, at least it's something. You're not a monster, you just act like one sometimes.<br /><br /><div style="border: currentColor;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CgbI2hhqZZs/UA7p9_HLAHI/AAAAAAAAAp0/J-pZXVCYdBw/s1600/untitled.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: right; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" sda="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CgbI2hhqZZs/UA7p9_HLAHI/AAAAAAAAAp0/J-pZXVCYdBw/s200/untitled.bmp" width="182" /></a><strong>PMS</strong></div><div style="border: currentColor;">Need I say more? You have to take this into consideration. Even couples without kids have to deal with this monthly curse on us women. Add the stress of your current situation and it can get really ugly. I give my hubby fair warning not to poke the bear when I feel it coming on and he has learned, well, not to poke the bear. It's like an unspoken&nbsp;truce - we avoid each other and will not discuss the kids during this time. I go to bed early and spend time catching up on my shows online. Even the kids can sense the eerie calm in the house during this sacred week. It's kind of funny now that I think of it. But it's serious stuff! I've flown off the handle over laundry being left in the dryer on my best day, can you imagine what I'm capable of during the week before my period? </div><strong>My Advice: </strong>Pamper yourself, enjoy time alone, recuperate, and give fair warning. Don't forget to apoligize and explain to the kids if you are less than tolerant&nbsp;with them at this time as well. It's part of life. <br /><br /><div style="border: currentColor;"><strong>THERAPY THERAPY THERAPY</strong></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><div style="border: currentColor;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2TNeLcZ1fYA/UA7qTWxm1JI/AAAAAAAAAp8/zPtbpSvJg8g/s1600/imagesCAR2P2AL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" sda="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2TNeLcZ1fYA/UA7qTWxm1JI/AAAAAAAAAp8/zPtbpSvJg8g/s200/imagesCAR2P2AL.jpg" width="200" /></a>I will give you one reason why every couple should go to therapy: So you can witness your husband taking advice, that you've given to him multiple times over the years until you're blue in the face, from another woman, and actually listen to it. Frustrating? Yes, but effective. For some reason, unless you have a PhD, they just aren't going to listen to our reasoning. </div></div><strong>My Advice: </strong>Bring a list to therapy every week and keep track of your (his) progress. He won't want to be embarrassed that he's not pulling his weight when the progress report is given each week. Use therapy to your full advantage. Oh, and shut up for a minute and listen to what he has to say, you'll discover a lot about the man you thought you knew so well. You may even learn that he refuses to put his dishes in the dishwasher right away because his ex wife used to nag him about it, he did it for her, but now he is exercising his rights as a new man to not be nagged. Men hate nagging - duh! Let him have that victory over his former oppression, he's a good man after all and deserves that win.<br /><br /><div style="border: currentColor;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eJCrayeimgs/UA7qeYS5h1I/AAAAAAAAAqE/mLU1vSNUhWs/s1600/imagesCAW2TAV1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: right; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" sda="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eJCrayeimgs/UA7qeYS5h1I/AAAAAAAAAqE/mLU1vSNUhWs/s200/imagesCAW2TAV1.jpg" width="187" /></a><strong>Healthy Body = Healthy Brain = Happy Being</strong></div><div style="border: currentColor;">Do you know that people who exercise regularly handle stress better than others. Why? Because they have more self control. They also have more sticking power, energy, and those happy endorphins that are all the rage these days.</div><strong>My Advice: </strong>Eat better, exercise, meditate, stretch, join a yoga class, whatever it takes, do it for you and do it regularly.<br /><br /><strong>GRATEFUL IS AS GRATEFUL DOES</strong><br />Remember that you love your partner and you love all the kids under your roof. You are blessed to have them in your life and they make life worth living (most days). <br /><strong>My Advice: </strong>Spend time together like back in the good old days when you were dating, go places as a family. It's true that the family that plays together stays together. <br /><br /><strong></strong><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9-vhKet92FU/UA6lwawB0wI/AAAAAAAAAoE/D2ZYEUXnAHE/s1600/imagesCAJSMEST.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sda="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9-vhKet92FU/UA6lwawB0wI/AAAAAAAAAoE/D2ZYEUXnAHE/s1600/imagesCAJSMEST.jpg" /></a></div><div style="border: currentColor;">If you take all of these things into consideration, it still won't be easy, but it will be easier. Relax and take it in stride. I promise that if you can keep your cool, pick your battles, stay healthy in body and mind, and be grateful for your pretty cool family, everything will be OK. </div><div style="border: currentColor;"><br /></div><div style="border: currentColor;">Now that we are through the tough times, the kids are getting older, and we have our routines and egos all sorted out, things are great! My hubby and I talk on the phone a few times a day just to say hi. We keep each other in the loop about what's going on with the kids and we spend time together as a family and alone regularly. We even started taking bigger&nbsp;vacations and, as a rule, we go one year with the kids and the next without. It's about balance at the end of the day.&nbsp;Spending time alone&nbsp;with your own children so they know&nbsp;they are still your number one, spending time all together as a family, and spending time alone as a couple. Get a calendar handy and use it up!&nbsp;</div><br />Good luck out there,<br /><div style="border: currentColor;">JB</div></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><br /></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><br /></div><div style="border: currentColor;"><br /></div><div style="border: currentColor; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>JustBeing AHappyBeinghttps://plus.google.com/110216159034183415738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1413349517700667667.post-79231709652971336952012-07-12T08:19:00.000-07:002012-09-15T07:04:16.126-07:00A Letter to Timbits<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in auto;"><span style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; font-size: x-small; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img class="rg_i" data-src="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTK2KH4IE562APV22joQyWUK5b2rqmu-I-aF6UELjg1lC1gPgJqPg" data-sz="f" height="183" name="mqOYM27uctcfqM:" src="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTK2KH4IE562APV22joQyWUK5b2rqmu-I-aF6UELjg1lC1gPgJqPg" width="244" /></span><span style="color: black; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;, &quot;sans-serif&quot;;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: currentColor; margin: 0in 0in auto;">Hello Sour Cream Timbits. It’s been a while hasn’t it? I stopped going to Tim Horton’s in the morning just to avoid you. Yes, I was that mad at you. You are so deceivingly tiny and sweet that I never thought you would betray me the way you did,&nbsp;leaving me with a bulging belly and no support. We did have some good times together though, on road trips to the beach and family holidays…but it wasn’t meant to be. I had to sacrifice my morning steeped tea just to keep away from your tempting little sugar peaks. I love the way they bunch up all around you and crunch in my mouth. But that was long ago…why am I thinking about you now? It’s like Michael Corleone said, “Once you’re out, they pull you back in.” I popped into Tim Horton's on our way to the beach last weekend and I met someone new, Lemon Timbit. I never thought I’d say it, but I can’t get enough of her. I’ve been with her four times this week already! I’m ashamed and embarrassed. She is just so refreshing and sweet. I can feel myself falling for her the way I fell for you, throwing all my discipline and willpower out the drive-through window! It’s terrible! I have to ban Tim Horton's from my life again until this summer lemon craze fades away into whatever evil master of seduction they will introduce in the fall. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: currentColor; margin: 0in 0in auto;">Good-bye Timbits, I know we’ll meet again (unfortunately).</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: currentColor; margin: 0in 0in auto;">(Timbits are about 70 calories each! Multiply that by how many you eat and it adds up fast! - Little Bastards)</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border: currentColor; margin: 0in 0in auto;"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: &quot;Arial&quot;, &quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 12pt;"><img class="rg_i" data-src="http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRr5t1y2YuyOUCUz449PioP4VZFDYkg1x3UTokX5chK8YVxe6DfwA" data-sz="f" height="161" name="oQf_DJ7IFbLUcM:" src="http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRr5t1y2YuyOUCUz449PioP4VZFDYkg1x3UTokX5chK8YVxe6DfwA" style="margin: 0px 0px 0px -4px;" width="215" /></span></div><div style="border: currentColor;"></div>JustBeing AHappyBeinghttps://plus.google.com/110216159034183415738noreply@blogger.com0